Warded Heart
by withah
Summary: Solana Amell is no hero, of Ferelden or otherwise. Alistair ended the Blight. Alistair died. She ran. For ten years after Alistair's death, she traveled. She commanded no Wardens, she fought no wars. She kept to herself and tried to forget. Then the sky split open. The Thedas she discovers when she finally comes down from the mountains is entirely different. Only the Inquisition
1. Scars beyond counting

General warnings: This story deals with events that happened (or could possibly happen) in Origins and Dragon Age 2 - so spoiler alert. The first few chapters are free of Inquisition spoilers but obviously those apply from further in. There are "sexy times" in later chapters, but nothing excessively graphic (hence the "teen" rating). I haven't played expansions outside of Trespasser so if anything regarding those seems off, put it down to "alt universe". I hope you enjoy!

(Oh also, the story's almost finished so updates should be regular and frequent :)).

* * *

A chill wind swept across the Frostbacks, catching the Warden's hair and stinging her cheeks.

Not that she was a Warden anymore.

Not that she was anything anymore, she thought grimly as she tugged her cloak tighter around herself.

She'd enjoyed being nothing. Perhaps _enjoyed_ was the wrong word. She hadn't hated it. She hadn't felt anything. Drifting across Thedas like a spirit, helping small villages when she could in exchange for shelter on the coldest nights, sleeping mostly in caves and abandoned ruins. It wasn't much of a life, and it wasn't much of a death. It was somewhere in between.

How many years had it been?

Time had passed in a wash of days and nightmares, bleeding into each other. She'd stayed far from cities – in the cities they might recognise her face.

They'd called her the Hero of Ferelden before she'd left.

She wasn't the hero. Alistair was the hero. Alistair had struck the final blow, had ended the Blight. She'd simply witnessed, held back by well-meaning friends and impenetrable magic.

But outside of the cities, there was nothing to mark the passage of years. There was no harvest, no festivals, no Chantry songs catching on the breeze and telling you another week had gone. And what did it matter?

Her sacrifice, her purpose, had been stolen.

She had considered the Deep Roads. Every Warden considered the Deep Roads at least once. Usually for the first and last time. But throwing her life away when she was not called to do so by sacred duty went against the vows she'd taken.

Once, they had spoken of it. Close together in her tent, skin against skin. Alistair had said, "You know I'd marry you if I could?"

And she had said, "I would like that."

And he had grinned at her, eyes shining. "You would?"

Why had he never understood that she loved him as much as he loved her?

"We don't know what will happen when we reach Denerim. If they still want to make you king…"

"I know." His expression had sobered as quickly as if she'd struck him. "And as king I may… well…"

"It's alright," she'd assured him, regretting bringing up the subject. I know. I understand. "I'm a Circle Mage and a Grey Warden. At least I'm not an elf."

"Ah, there, you see. I will be sure to mention that. At least she's not an elf." He'd smiled wistfully, taking her hand in his. "You should rebuild the Wardens. They need you."

"I know almost nothing about being a Warden."

"You know enough."

Then he'd kissed her and later, when the first sounds of dawn indicated it was almost time to part, he'd said, "I've only been a Warden three months longer than you, you know?"

"Yes, but you spent time with other Warden-"

"No, wait, hear me out. It's not about that." He'd taken her hand again, and stared down at their entwined fingers as if considering his next words carefully. "Eventually we'll hear The Calling. I told you."

"Thirty years." He'd explained that it would take three decades for the taint to overwhelm their blood.

"Twenty nine now." The wistful smile, and his eyes locked firmly on their hands. "I'll wait for you." Then he'd looked up and the intensity in his gaze had stopped her breath. "Let's make a pact. No matter what else happens. When we hear The Calling, we come together again and we die, side-by-side."

Except he hadn't died by her side.

He'd died that night, atop that tower, tired and bloody.

"I can't let you do this!" she'd cried, staff at the ready. She'd been preparing for the sacrifice since they'd entered the gates and she'd seen Riordan fall to his death. In truth she'd been preparing since the night before, since she'd discovered that a Warden had to strike the final blow and give their life with it. If it came down to her or him, it had to be her.

She'd kissed him on the steps, overcome, knowing it was the last opportunity.

Leliana had teased her. Leliana had had no idea what lay ahead.

 _I can't let you do this…_ she'd been ready to cast.

But he was Templar-trained. She'd forgotten that. He could suppress her magic.

"You don't have a choice."

And so he'd suffocated her spell and run forward with his sword. He was stronger and faster and by the time she knew she'd failed, he'd already pushed the blade hilt-high into the beast. And she'd tried to run to him, convinced there was some mistake, convinced she could undo it.

Wynne had held her back. That frail old woman, with nothing but a spirit and her own willpower keeping her upright, had found the strength to hold her back from the blast. It had saved her life. It had felt like betrayal.

And now she heard The Calling.

Now she heard The Calling and where was Alistair? Was he waiting for her in the Fade? Was he beside The Maker, as the Chantry prayers had promised? Or did the taint prevent that? What happened to a Warden when they died?

The thought of the Deep Roads had returned to her now that her usual nightmares had taken on a more urgent tone, now that she heard the drum beat that signaled her end, a dissident chord that rang constantly at the back of her mind.

Only one thing stopped her from heading that dark summons. It hadn't been 30 years.

She wasn't sure how long it had been, but she'd seen her reflection not more than a week ago. Yes, there were slight crow's feet at the edges of her eyes, but other than that her skin was smooth, her hair was still a bright sunset red.

She looked at her hands again, pale from the cold. No wrinkles.

Either it had not been 30 years, or she had discovered the secret to eternal youth in her travels without even realising it.

So what did it mean? Another Blight?

Another Blight, another chance to make her sacrifice.

She didn't know how she felt about that. It felt a little better than nothing, and also a little worse.


	2. Oak and iron

_Well this didn't happen the last time._

The Warden stared up at the sky and felt more than a little sick.

She'd been travelling toward the Anderfels, not sure where else she might find other Wardens; Wardens who could make sense of what she'd been feeling and seeing. She had stopped for the night in a small town where there had been whispers of some kind of conclave, up at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She had smiled to herself, sitting in the corner of a tavern eating quietly and trying not to draw attention. _So it had become a temple then, like Leliana had wished._

And then the noise. A horrible vibration that started in the head and traveled through the teeth right into the depths of the heart. People had run outside to see what had happened and she'd followed, automatically reaching for her staff.

But this was one enemy she couldn't fight. A hole in the sky, spitting angry lightning, the whirling spew-green of the fade.

She was still clutching her staff – rather uselessly – when someone nearby gave a shriek and pointed behind her. She spun, the spell for a fireball coming to the front of her mind as if it hadn't been years since she'd last cast one. But there was nothing at all alarming there. People who had been staring at the sky only a moment before were now staring at her.

"Get out of here!" A man shouted from the gathered crowd. "We don't want your kind here."

Again, she looked around her, but it was becoming increasingly clear that they were reacting to her presence. Was Ferelden still so against Grey Wardens? Even after they'd disproved Loghain's claims about their betrayal? How did they know she was a Warden?

 _The ring. Of course, the ring._

She held up her hand in a sign of surrender. "I mean you no harm. I'm just passing through."

Odd that the whole crowd could be that observant, as to notice the crest on a small ring. Not only odd, impossible.

"They did this," she heard a murmur in the gathered crowd. "It was them, the rebels. They tore the sky."

"I'll be taking my leave now then," she said, spooked more than she wanted to let on. She turned and hurried through a gap between people, back into the woods. She could still feel them staring after her.

 _Alarming._ She hadn't encountered anything like that since she'd visited Haven all those years ago.

The woods were comforting in their familiarity. She'd spent so much time in the forests of Thedas she imagined she could write a book on them if she ever had a mind to. Usually travelling through the trees, collecting herbs and tracking animals eased her mind. Not today, not while that hole in the sky gaped over her.

Eventually the hum of voices through the trees came to her. Bandits? In general she'd steer clear of any group of people found out in the wilderness. Normal folk stuck to the roads, which left these deep parts for two types: robbers, or people who didn't want to be found. Neither appreciated her stumbling into their camps.

But now she had greater concerns. She crept nearer, listening closely. Even bandits might know more about what had happened to the sky than her. She sank into the shadows behind a bush, so she could just see them through the gaps between leaves.

A flash of armour.

Not bandits then, not that well outfitted.

Low voices, a shift of a shield, a flicker of an emblem.

 _Templars. Thank the Maker._

"Greetings." She rose from her hiding place slowly, trying not to startle them. Startled Templars were far more dangerous than bandits. There were three of them. One brawny with a thick neck and swarthy skin, one pale and tall and one, who seemed to be barely old enough to be a member of their order, with a darker complexion. Despite her efforts not to frighten them, all three spun and leveled shining weapons at her.

She held up her hands again, "I mean no harm. I only wished to ask –"

But the young one pointed. "Look, she has a staff!"

"Down on your knees," the brawny one said. "I'm only going to ask once."

Old fears surged to the surface. Her Harrowing, silver edges that would welcome the chance to cut. Sneered commands, panicked night searches for unruly classmates. She did as he asked without question. Too many years of conditioning for her to stand her ground now.

"Please, there's been some misunderstanding. I'm not an apostate. I'm a Circle Mage, I have papers."

One of them – she wasn't sure which – started laughing. Another yanked the staff from her back.

"I was a Circle Mage. I have permission-"

The press of Templar magic, cutting off her air so all she could do was stare down at the leafy ground.

"Where are your comrades?" a Templar asked and she thought it must have been the brawny one. He released his control on her long enough for her to take a breath to answer.

"I have no comrades. I'm travelling alone."

"A likely story," the tall one who had not spoken before said.

"Probably a trap," the young one surmised.

"I approached you." She insisted, "Why would I do that if I was an apostate?"

"Why did you approach us? What were you planning?" The tall one again.

"I wasn't planning anything. I wanted to know what's going on. With the sky."

Something struck her temple, the haft of a sword possibly. She cried out as stars exploded behind her eyes.

"You should know. You did this," the burly Templar said.

"I haven't done anything." She hated how pathetic she sounded. Look at Ferelden's hero now, on her knees in the dirt being shoved around by Templars.

"Your mage friends have, just like in Kirkwall. 'cept now it's not just a Chantry. That wasn't enough for you was it?" The weapon that had struck her temple collided with her rib cage, sending her down to the ground, and she realised he was hitting her with her own staff.

"Kirkwall?"

"Don't play stupid. Tell us where the rest of your group is, or we kill you right here."

"What?"

Another blow to her ribs, harder, hard enough to make her curl in on herself.

The tall Templar dropped to his haunches beside her. He touched her hair almost affectionately. "Or how about we don't kill you? There are other ways we can get our information."

A spark of light flew across her vision, hitting the man in the chest. He went sprawling, electricity chasing across his armour. Chain Lightning. The burly Templar gave a cry of surprise and when she looked at him she found him aflame, running towards the trees in terror.

She scrambled into a sitting position, head still spinning. The young Templar was holding up his shield, but there was now a mage opposite him. The mage cast a glyph at his feet, and then he exploded in flame. She shielded her face against the heat, and then someone was hauling her up by her arm.

"Come on, there will be more nearby," a voice said at her ear. Her staff was pressed into her hand, and she was pulled away from the remains of the Templars and into the trees.

Her saviour was an elf with dark hair and he darted ahead. She followed as best she could, the pain in her side a hindrance. Another mage, the one who had been casting the lightning, caught up. She was human and she slipped her arm around the warden's waist and helped her along.

They ran for some time, until the trees grew denser and pressed in, until she could no longer see the rift in the sky.

They came to a clearing where there were others – three or four. Too many questions, all at once. The one who'd cast the lightning helped her to sit on a log.

"You shouldn't have been out there alone," the man who'd saved her said.

"What in Andraste's name is going on?" she was panting, still struggling to breathe after the Templar's spell.

"We don't know," the man said, running a hand through his hair. It was greasy, they had the look of people who hadn't been anywhere near civilisation in a long time. "That's why we were scouting so close to their camp. We were hoping to overhear something. Any other day, you would have been on your own."

The lightning-caster passed her a canteen. "I'm Cassey. What's your name?"

She drank deeply, the water cool and fresh. "Solana."

It felt so strange to use a name again. It was alien, the vowels not fitting where they should. She wondered if she'd pronounced it right.

Then she wondered if she should have lied.

"Solana, I heard what you said to them. You said you've been travelling alone. Is that true?"

"Yes." More true than they could know.

"What happened to your cell?"

"My cell?"

"You're not supposed to travel alone. It's too dangerous."

It was only then that she noticed the robes that Cassey was wearing. The fabric was unfamiliar but the style was unmistakable. Circle.

"You're a Circle Mage?"

Cassey exchanged looks with the elf. He drew nearer, narrowing his eyes at her. "You really don't know what's going on?"

"The Circles fell, Solana. We're all apostates now," Cassey said. "Even them."

She looked at the others in the group for the first time. They'd fallen silent and were gathered nearby, listening. Three of them, each with the mark of the Chantry branded onto their foreheads. Tranquil mages, mages that couldn't possibly be a threat to anyone.

"Is this a Blight?" Solana asked. Why had she waited so long once she'd heard The Calling before seeking answers?

"Maker, I hope not," said the man, settling opposite her. "Although I don't remember a hole in the sky last time."

"If darkspawn aren't to blame, how did the Circles fall?"

Another mage stepped into the clearing, startling her. He was younger than the others, a human with curly brown hair. No branding. He was holding two dead nugs by the ears. "We didn't fall, we rose."

"That's a matter of some debate, Derrik," Cassey said.

He ignored her, speaking directly to Solana. "We decided we didn't like living under the Chantry's thumb. It started in Kirkwall. Mages rose up against the oppressors. Their passion spread like wildfire from Circle to Circle and now we're all free."

"Yes, free," said Cassey, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He continued to ignore her. "How is it that you, a mage, do not know this?"

"I've been alone a long time."

"Well, you're not alone now." Cassey offered a thin smile. "Welcome to the cause."

* * *

"Commander, there's something you need to see."

Cullen snapped the box shut and jerked upright. His men knew he'd been a Templar, there was nothing shameful about him examining the lyrium apparatus. Yet he felt dirty, he felt as if he'd been caught with his hand in the biscuit jar.

The young man with his head around the door was flushed and out of breath. If he'd noticed Cullen's startled reaction, it didn't show on his face.

"Report."

"It's uh…" the man swallowed. "It's best you see for yourself."

Cullen followed him from the Chantry. The hole in the sky seemed to have grown larger, but the man didn't spare it a glance.

It was only outside of town, down by the old fisherman's cottage, that Cullen saw what he was talking about. A bright green split in space itself, shining like the surface of the icy lake it hung over and crackling like a curse.

His heart beat faster. Some visceral part of him knew what he was seeing, even as his mind struggled to comprehend it. Perhaps he'd seen something similar in those dark days in the Ferelden Circle, the ones that he'd partly blanked out, that came to him only when he slept.

A cluster of his men was standing at the base of the thing, weapons drawn. He was opening his mouth to ask what it was when it contracted in on itself, becoming strangely crystalline. Then it shuddered. It spat forth darts of sickening green light, and from the light came the demons.

* * *

"Maker's toenails, what is that thing?"

Cassey was gripping her staff so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Derrik, who seemed to think himself leader of their group, had gone pale. He thought nothing of hunting Templars or catching nugs, but this had somehow him scared to silence.

Solana had been hearing nothing but his voice for the last few hours as they'd made their way through the woods. She'd longed for him to stop talking about the glory of mages and magic, but she hadn't asked for this.

The tear hung before them, blocking their path. She could see a twisted landscape on the other side and she didn't like what she saw. She'd spent far too much time there, chasing nightmares and rescuing possessed little boys.

"We need to run."

"What?" Derrik looked at her, eyes wide. He seemed even younger now, no more than a child.

"That's the Fade through there. Hole into the Fade means one thing."

"Demons?" Falin, the elf, asked. Although by his tone, it was more a statement. Solana nodded.

She expected Derrik to turn heel (or perhaps fall to his knees and lose the contents of his stomach). Instead, he lowered his staff and walked closer, as if entranced. Cassey called after him, but he seemed to not hear her.

"We could bind them… get them to fight with us." He raised a hand as if to touch the rift.

"Are you insane?" Cassey leapt forward, snatching his hand from the air.

A crack. A flash of light and Derrik was thrown high, screaming. Something had come through the rift, its dark shadow now where he had been. There was no sign of Cassey.

"Run!" Solana called to the tranquil. She didn't dare check over her shoulder to see if they'd obeyed.

The demon howled, stretching its malformed head to the sky. She knew its kind, but she couldn't remember its weaknesses. Once she had known them by heart, but now…

No time to debate. She cast a hasty barrier and called upon the elements.

This had been her favourite spell once, and it certainly looked impressive. The very air before her seemed to turn to flame. It roared with her power, whipping around the demon, wrapping it in a blinding cone of fire. The demon shrieked and its call was answered by another. It was no longer alone. Somewhere behind her, another monstrosity had been expelled from the Fade, but the blazing demon came at her. She couldn't fight them both.

lightning streaked passed her ear. Cassey alive and on her knees, casting at whatever was behind Solana.

And then Falin was at her shoulder, casting his own spells and glyphs.

Between the three of them, they managed to defeat the demons. Sweating, aching, Solana collapsed beside the prone Derrik. No breath, no heartbeat.

"At least he went quickly," Cassey said.

Falin drew her into a tight embrace and they held each other for a long moment before Solana suggested they should leave. There was no telling what the rift might send forth next, and she didn't wish to find out.

* * *

Cullen sheathed his sword and brushed the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Well this was… inconvenient. Deep breaths. Not what he needed right now. Another reason to go back to lyrium. Another reason to return to the leash.

"There are more of them, sir." One of the men said.

"What are they?"

"Rifts into the fade."

"I can tell that. I mean where did they come from? The conclave?"

"It would appear so." He turned to find Cassandra coming up behind them, swaggering slightly with the weight of her weapon. "Solas believes they're some kind of ripple effect. Whatever happened at the temple was powerful enough that it split the sky. He reckons that whatever power created the Breach –"

"And you trust this apostate?" Cullen met her gaze. He was used to people shying away from his glare, but Cassandra held it.

"I do. I told you. He approached us willingly, handing over his weapons without being asked..."

"Mages don't require weapons."

She cocked her head. "But this one may be our only hope for answers. The prisoner has woken. Solas believes he might be able to close these – things."

"Incoming!" The rift had contracted again.

Cullen pulled out his sword again. "Fine, you go get your prisoner. And sound the alarm. We need every able-bodied person out here fighting."

 _Maker help us._

* * *

"Where are we going?" Cassey asked.

They'd been walking for hours, running from that rift until their legs were numb and it was all they could do to put one foot in front of the other. Solana didn't know. She knew only that she needed to get away from the fade and death and demons.

"What happened to the Grey Wardens?" she asked.

"Which Grey Wardens?"

"Any of them. After Loghain was killed at the Landsmeet and the Blight was stopped, where did they go?"

Falin was a few feet behind them, keeping an eye on the tranquil. "It is intriguing how little you know about current events. I trust that at some stage you will offer us an explanation?"

She took a breath to respond, to explain again that she had been travelling across Thedas. But he was obviously not so curious as to press an answer immediately. He kept talking.

"In response to your question, when The Warden disappeared, the others of her order took refuge in the land bequeathed to her by the crown. They aimed to rebuild a presence in Ferelden, I believe."

"Aimed to?" Solana prompted.

"Their keep was overrun by darkspawn."

She stumbled and Cassey gave her a curious look. "Darkspawn? But the Blight was over!"

She'd failed in her duty. It should have been her, she should have killed the archdemon.

"Indeed. They fought off the threat, but without a base of operations, those who survived went North. We've never been particularly welcoming of their ilk, as you no doubt know."

"Why would you think I know?"

"No reason," he said with forced casualty. "It's just that I've noticed the ring you wear. Forgive me, I'm not usually one to pry, but you keep twisting it as if it is ill-fitting."

She was twisting it as he spoke and she dropped her hand, the sudden movement eliciting a giggle from Cassey.

"It doesn't mean what you think it does," she said quickly. "It is a Warden signet" – he had already seen as much, she knew from his line of questioning. "But it doesn't mean I'm a part of the order. The Wardens don't give rings to show allegiance, they give…" she trailed off. She was forbidden from speaking of it, of the vial she still wore around her neck, beneath her clothes. And if she did speak of it, the very knowledge would be incriminating. "It means I knew a Warden once. It's his ring I wear."

"Ah, and you're seeking this friend of yours?" Falin guessed.

"No."

The word was too short, too hard and too cold. She owed him more.

"No, he's not… he's with the Maker now. But I believe if anyone will be able to help us defeat these demons, it would be the Wardens. We should find them."


	3. No rest in this world

They were calling him the Herald of Andraste.

Cullen didn't know how he felt about that. He'd always been Andrastian – how could he not be, serving the Chantry as long as he had? In recent years, his belief had been shaken more than once. But now, living beneath the yawning breach, he found his faith restored.

It was difficult to stare at something so incredible every day and not believe it was all true – the formation of the Veil, the Golden City, the disillusioned Maker.

But believing in the Maker and believing that Andraste herself had sent this human man to save them all didn't necessarily go hand-in-hand.

Mind you, if Andraste were to send a saviour, she hardly could have chosen a better specimen. Trevelyan looked every bit the part. He'd come from a noble family, and it showed. He was tall, strong, healthy with a classically square jaw and bright, attentive eyes. Even his teeth were perfect, and when he swept his wavy brown air from his eyes, every woman from here to Orlais paid attention. He was charismatic too, with a kind of youthful optimism so common in those who had lead lives of privilege.

Did he believe himself the Herald?

He dodged the question whenever it was asked of him, saying something along the lines of, "I only wish to help."

What an opportunity, for the youngest child of a noble line, with no destiny of his own. He could be the shining beacon that lead Thedas into a new age.

If the people believed in him, then why not? What did Cullen's misgivings matter?

Trevelyan had managed to halt the progress of the breach – Solas was so infuriatingly smug about that – which was more than anyone else had managed to do. Now he was going to meet with the Chantry mothers and Cullen was certain he'd win their hearts too.

He took the vial out of the box again and stared at it in his hand.

Chantry approval would mean easy access to lyrium once more. Why give it up? Why go through this? The headaches, the nausea, the anxiety and terror. Some days it felt like he was being tortured all over again, and for what? For some symbolic gesture?

He swallowed, taking hold of the wooden spoon. Its shape was so familiar. It fit perfectly in his hand. His fingers knew the grooves, the grain of the wood. It felt like home.

The Inquisition needed him to be at his best. Not this shell of himself, this puppet that made the right noises and gave the right assurances by rote, but who felt nothing but need.

Who was he to deny them that?

The serene face of Andraste stared at him from the carved inlay of the box. A symbol of truth, a symbol of strength.

Slowly, as if each inch of movement physically ached, he placed the spoon and the vial back inside and shut the lid.

 _Not today._

* * *

"Welcome to our order."

The Warden-Commander was beautiful in the way that the Breach was beautiful. She was scarred, and she'd shaved off her hair. She wore a grim, expression and she was all angles, as if she hadn't eaten a good meal in a very long time. Yet there was a burning power in her, an inner glow that outshone her physical appearance.

"We've had quite a few visits from mages these past months," she said, "but I don't believe many have traveled quite as far as you to make our acquaintance."

She sat at the end of the stone hall, her ankle resting on her knee and her hands steepled as she leaned back in her chair. She was very much like a monarch, Solana thought.

There was nothing particularly regal about the hall itself. It had a single threadbare carpet in the centre, and two candelabrum on either side of the Warden-Commander's chair that bathed her in a pool of light. Yet her presence made the space feel like more.

"Thank you for agreeing to see us." Solana dipped her head, uncertain of the proper protocol. Alistair had never discussed that with her.

"Clarel, please. You come to us at a difficult time. Usually we'd be more hospitable." She rose to her feet. "But let us keep this brief. You are running from the Templars and wish to offer your skills, and your lives, to the Wardens in return for sanctuary?"

"Actually –" Solana started, but Cassey stepped forward and interrupted. "Yes, if possible."

Falin grabbed her arm. "On condition."

Warden-Commander Clarel cocked an eyebrow, "Which is?"

"We bring tranquil with us. A small number. They're helpless in times such as these."

Solana watched Clarel's face. Her expression seemed to sober, her mouth drew into a frown, her gaze dropped to her feet. "I see."

"They can't fight, but they can perform other services for the Wardens," Falin insisted. "They're excellent researchers."

"I'm aware of their abilities." Clarel said, then softer, "I was once an enchanter."

"Then you'll accept them into the order too?" Falin pressed.

"It's not that simple."

"Not the order then, but if you can offer them a safe place to live…"

"Please, understand. It's not that I do not wish to help them. But as I said, you have come at a difficult time. Being a Warden isn't an escape. It's a sacred duty. It's a sacrifice."

"I _do_ understand that!"

"Falin…" Solana cautioned.

"If you turn us away, we will die out there. As Wardens our deaths have meaning."

That had hit a chord. The Warden-Commander's gaze softened.

A figure in the corner of the room stirred. He was cloaked in shadow, so Solana could not see his features. She'd thought him just another one of the guards who stood to the sides of the hall at first, but there was something different about his silhouette. He wasn't wearing Warden armour.

"We do need mages," he said. His voice was almost sing-song in its intonation and the hairs on the back of Solana's neck stood on end.

* * *

Solana followed Cassey, Falin and the tranquil as they were lead to what would be their rooms. For a headquarters, this Orlesian keep was incredibly quiet. Alistair had spoken of raucous drinking games and comradery. There as none of that here. All the Wardens they passed had a look of intense focus. Some were murmuring together, but moved apart as they approached.

"Rest for the night," Clarel said when they reached their destination. She stood aside at the door. "In the morning, we will perform your right of passage."

Solana waited for the others to enter, and when she was sure Falin and Cassey were out of earshot she dropped her voice and addressed Clarel, "A word?"

The Warden-Commander's brow furrowed. "I'm afraid I cannot provide more details about what this right of passage entails. It's a sacred Warden trad-"

She stopped talking when she realised what Solana was showing her. She'd scooped the vial she wore around her neck out from under her robes and it dangled between them.

"I see," said Clarel.

She indicated they should move further down the corridor with a tilt of her head. They walked a while without speaking, every so often passing one of the doleful Wardens. Eventually, Clarel pushed open a door and lead Solana into a small courtyard.

It was all stone. A single tree had once stood in the centre, but now it was no more than a collection of branches.

Clarel turned to her, "You're hearing it too?"

The questions that Solana had been lining up to ask died in her throat. "What?"

Clarel's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"I'm just a Warden. From Ferelden." She remembered what Falin had said. "I was recruited just before Vigil's Keep fell. I wasn't told much about the Order."

The Warden-Commander was still eyeing her suspiciously. "That was many years ago."

"I've been keeping to myself." This conversation was getting out of her control. "Is everyone hearing The Calling?"

Clarel nodded slowly.

"What does that mean? Another Blight?"

"It means we are dying."

Solana's breath caught. "All of us?"

Clarel paced across the small courtyard, scratching her head. "I know not what caused this. The precise magic behind the Joining is lost to history. Perhaps it is some new evil we do not yet understand, something that is manipulating the taint in our blood and speeding our demise. It wouldn't be the first time similar has happened, though perhaps not on so large a scale."

"But if the Wardens die out…"

Clarel didn't answer.

"Only a Warden can slay an arch demon," Solana repeated, those fateful words that she'd heard years before. "That's why you're recruiting the rebel mages? You want to recruit faster than we die out?"

"Such a plan would be unsustainable."

"There must be some solution. You should appeal to the crown."

Clarel's attention snapped to her, her icy eyes locked on Solana's. "You think I haven't tried? The crown is deaf to our pleas. She has a civil war to concern herself with."

 _Wait what?_

"Orlais is at war?"

Clarel gave a snort of laughter. "You really have been isolated."

Solana swallowed. "How long do we have?"

"I don't know. A matter of months. The taint itself isn't our chief concern. It's the summons."

Solana would have asked what she meant, but she thought she understood. Her own blood was riling against even being here. The only way to make the music stop was to go to the Deep Roads. Only that massive hole in the sky had prevented her from giving in already. "Wardens are leaving for the Deep Roads."

"In droves." Clarel offered a small smile. "Which is why I was surprised to find you here. Every Warden I know of not locked in this fortress has already taken the Long Walk. We're cursed, you see. We don't tell the new recruits, many of them can't handle it. The Calling isn't a result of the taint. It's a spell, an ancient spell, that brings us to an honourable death whether or not we will it."

"It's not the Blight sickness that kills us."

"No, we kill ourselves. Or, we go to die. Which amounts to the same. You can only deny the call so long."

"So we might not even be sick?"

"It hardly matters." The older woman turned away from her, looking up at the tiny square of grey sky above where they stood. "The sickness is what usually triggers our Calling, but the trigger is irrelevant."

"But you just agreed to recruit my friends. You're not going to warn them?"

Clarel leaned against the wall, pressing her head to the stone. "I may have a solution. It requires an army. We've lost too many people to The Calling, I'm sorry."

"What's the solution?" Solana asked, voice trembling with either fear or rage. Probably both.

"We kill the Old Gods before they wake."


	4. The lights in the shadow

_Mages, it had to be mages._

Not just an agreement with them, no. He had to go and form an alliance! And not just any mages, the rebel mages who had been using Maker knows what kinds of magic. Even Solas had admitted that the mages they'd seen fighting out in Redcliff had gone mad, and now they were part of the Inquisition?

Cullen paced from one end of the room to the other, trying to steady his breathing. It felt like everything was spinning out of control. The Inquisition had been a chance at a new life, but he was seeing visions of Kirkwall all over again.

When he'd confronted Trevelyan, even Cassandra had defended the Herald's decision. No one believed the mages should be restricted.

He should leave. Leave while he could.

Even as he thought it, he knew he couldn't. No matter how angry he was, closing the Breach was top priority and the Inquisition was the best chance for it.

Josephine slipped into the room. By the way she looked at him, she probably knew he was fuming. She gave him a small smile in greeting. She was usually the first to arrive for their meetings, but he hadn't trusted himself to be in his own quarters feeling this way, so he'd been pacing up and down, glaring at the markers on the war table, for the last half an hour.

"I'd like to compliment you on your diplomacy, Commander," she said.

"I'm not sure whether you're being sarcastic."

"Oh no, I'm being perfectly serious. We know you disagree with the choice the Herald made. It was good of you to assure him of your support."

"I assured him he'd have the support of my troops."

"Which amounts to the same thing, does it not? I must admit, I was a little concerned we'd have a civil war of our own just then."

He gave a snort. "I hope he realises that if they give us any trouble…"

The door opened and Leliana stepped in, followed by Cassandra and Trevelyan locked in conversation. They were talking about something he'd seen in the future, something to do with red lyrium. Cullen may have been more interested if he hadn't still been grinding his teeth over the mage alliance.

"Shall we begin?" he cut in. The others fell silent. He pointed to the space on the map that marked where the Temple of Sacred Ashes had once stood. "Troops and mages alike still need to be outfitted. I suggest we begin by commissioning –"

There was some kind of commotion outside. _Sweet Andraste. Trouble already?_

The others were possibly thinking the same thing. Leliana and Josie exchanged a look.

"I'll go check." Cassandra had her hand on her weapon as she moved to the door.

Cullen took another deep breath, his hands traveling automatically to his own sword hilt.

* * *

"The Circles are gone, mages are enslaved by Tevinter, Orlais's at war _again_ , the Grey Wardens are performing blood magic and did I mention there's a hole in the sky? And you won't even let me speak to anyone."

"I'm sorry," the young man blushed scarlet. "The council is in session, if you wait…"

"I've done enough waiting."

Solana had run out on the Wardens as soon as she'd heard what Clarel was planning. She hadn't brought Falin and Cassey. They wouldn't have left without the tranquil and she knew she needed to get help fast. She hadn't intended to be gone long. She'd headed straight for the Chantry, thinking that if anyone would be willing to stop blood magic it would be them. But then she'd discovered that the Templars had gone rogue, leaving the Chantry completely toothless. She'd figured asking the rebel mages would be the next best solution – they understood the risks as well as she did. And they probably had enough power to stop the Wardens. But when she'd finally reached Redcliff, she'd been told that the mage leader had sold her people into servitude for protection against the Templars.

Solana had found herself on the Redcliff docks, staring out at the castle and cursing her timing. If she'd come there first, she could have at least asked Teagan for help, but now the castle was full of Tevinters. Her prior dealings with Tevinters had not at all endeared her to them, or them to her.

"It's you!"

She'd turned to the voice, cursing under her breath. That was the other thing about Redcliff, the thing that had kept her away so long. Too many people who knew her.

It had taken her some time to recognise the young man staring at her, agape. Connor, the boy she'd once rescued from demon possession. He was now fully-grown, clad in Circle robes.

He'd begged her to save them all, as she had before. In fact, he thought she'd come to Redcliff with the express purpose of ousting the Tevinters. But when she finally convinced him that she was on urgent business of her own, he'd told her about the Inquisition. People had been whispering its name outside of town, he'd said. The Inquisition was doing something about the breach in the sky, they'd been helping refugees, they were building an army.

The Inquisition was her last and only hope. And she couldn't even get inside.

She drew a breath for a repeat diatribe at the man blocking the door – her third – when the door opened. A strong-looking woman with a scarred face and dark close-cropped hair stepped out. She put her hands on her hips.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"I need to speak with you," Solana said. "It's important."

The woman frowned, her brow furrowed. "And you just assume that your matter is more important than what we are currently discussing?"

Solana was about to answer that yes, it almost certainly was, when another figure arrived at the door. She was hooded and as soon as she saw Solana, she darted past the scarred woman and rushed towards her.

Solana reached for her staff, then she saw the face.

Leliana took her in a fierce embrace. "We were looking everywhere for you. I thought you'd gone to the Deep Roads."

"It seems to be the current trend," Solana said, still stunned. "What are you doing here? I thought you went back to the Chantry?"

Leliana's laugh was as musical as it had been a decade prior. "I did. And then I –"

The scarred woman cleared her throat.

"Oh, my apologies. May I present my good friend Solana." Leliana gave her a little conspiratorial smile. "Otherwise known as the Hero of Ferelden."

"Please don't call me that."

It was too late, everyone in the hall was staring at her. Before, they'd been awkwardly trying to continue their business despite her shouting. The young man she'd been shouting at visibly paled and Solana thought he might faint.

The scarred woman's brown eyes went wide. She seemed to drift from the room where they'd been meeting. "You're _her_? But we _searched_."

"Why were you looking for me?"

"We needed a leader, of course," Leliana said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What? I can't be your le-"

The word died in her throat. Someone else had stepped out of the room, obviously curious as to what was keeping the others. He had a jagged scar across his lip now and had stubble where before he'd been cultivating a beard, but other than that he looked exactly the same.

"I'm still a mage," she said. Even if she was willing to lead them, there was no way in Thedas he'd follow a mage.

For his part, he hadn't moved since he'd spotted her.

Leliana followed her gaze. "Solana, you know Commander Cullen."

Leliana had been there in the Circle Tower. She'd heard the things he'd said. He'd been tortured for days, and the cruelty of the malificarum had driven him insane. He'd begged Solana to kill them all – blood mage and innocent alike, just in case they'd been corrupted. And when she'd refused, he'd pled with his captain to allow him to do that dark duty. He'd frightened her. And now here he was, in a position of power. In one of the last positions of power left this side of Thedas.

"You never told me you knew the Hero?" the scarred woman was saying to him. He didn't answer, he was just staring at Solana as if she was darkspawn or one of those fade rifts.

"Not surprising," she said. "I don't think I'm one of his fondest memories."

She saw his adam's apple bob, but he didn't offer any response.

"This is Cassandra Pentagast," Leliana introduced the scarred woman. "She was the right hand of the Divine. She set up the Inquisition. And that's Josephine, our ambassador." A short woman dressed in gold had stepped out from behind Cullen.

Solana greeted them politely.

"You should join us at the war table," Leliana said, guiding her towards the room. "We have much to discuss."

* * *

Cullen felt cold and it had nothing to do with the weather.

He suspected that for once it didn't have anything to do with his withdrawal either.

As soon as they concluded their business in the war room, he marched to his quarters, straight up to the fire, rubbing his arms in vain.

They'd told him that if he went off lyrium not only would he lose his abilities, and possibly his mind, but his memories would fade too. He'd forget the past and become confused about the present. That was one of the reasons he'd asked Cassandra to keep a close eye on him.

But he hadn't forgotten anything. He hadn't forgotten the first day he'd seen her. He must have been about sixteen, on his first assignment at the Tower. She'd been living there for years already. Tall for her age, flame-red hair, soft pink lips that seldom smiled. The other mages had seen him as a weakling, an opportunity to get back at their handlers. Not that any of them ever tried anything physical. They wouldn't have gone that far. But they'd taken pleasure in his confusion, intentionally sent him in circles trying to find his barracks, slipping interesting items into his food. Not her. She'd always been kind. She'd taken pity on him, he supposed. On one particular occasion, a prank had sent his lunch tray flying. His meal had been scattered across the floor. She'd stopped to help him pick everything up and had quietly slipped him part of her own meal.

Perhaps that had been the moment he'd fallen in love with her.

Her shy smile when she'd sneakily transferred her currant bun onto his tray was burned into his memory. "I don't like raisins," she'd whispered.

He could remember that as clearly as he could remember her Harrowing, three years later. He'd thrown up the night before. He hadn't slept. He'd been so terrified his duty would demand he kill her. He'd been unable to stop shaking the entire time she'd been in the Fade. And when she'd passed the test in no more than a few minutes, he had been elated. He'd told everyone how amazed he'd been. In retrospect he must have sounded like a proud teacher rather than what he was, a degenerate with an ill-advised infatuation.

There had been no point to it, he'd known it. He was a Templar. She was his charge. It could never have gone anywhere. And besides, he could never even maintain a conversation with her. Every time she'd tried to speak to him, he'd stammered short, awkward answers or his voice had abandoned him completely. Throat tight, tongue too large for his mouth, it was as if she'd cast a spell on him.

Not exactly what any woman was looking for in a lover.

The very same day of her Harrowing, while he was still celebrating her victory as if it had been his own, she'd been caught up in something just as deadly. People who he'd respected, who should have been better, used her as a pawn in their little struggle for power. She'd done precisely as her First Enchanter had ordered, and had been outcast as a result. If the Grey Warden, Duncan, hadn't been there, she may well have been made tranquil. Instead, she had left, promised to the Wardens like some prize bronto.

Their loss, all of Ferelden's gain.

The next time he'd seen her, she'd been in the midst of saving the world. She'd come back to the Circle to assist a possessed child. She'd found it over-run by abominations. And she'd found him…

He'd babbled for a good few minutes about his forbidden feelings for her, and then begged her to kill… kill so many people. When she'd refused, he'd cursed her, he'd told her her compassion would be her undoing. He'd… he'd horrified her. Disgusted her. He'd seen it in her face, but back then he hadn't cared. He'd been incapable of feeling anything but pain and fear and lust for revenge.

She went on to be the Hero. He went on to Kirkwall. More death, more destruction.

When he'd first joined the Inquisition, Leliana had mentioned her. But Solana had disappeared after the Blight. No one knew where she'd gone. The last time anyone had seen her had been at Queen Anora's inauguration, when the new queen had granted her a boon. Solana had shocked the hall by asking that the Circles be dissolved. Of course that hadn't happened. Anora had instead granted her land to rebuild the Grey Wardens.

Solana had accepted graciously, saying she first wished to travel for a time.

Then she'd disappeared.

Many said that she had gone to the Deep Roads, as Wardens were wont to do, that she had known nothing but fighting dark spawn, so that even after the Blight ended that was what she returned to.

Leliana had eventually also come around to that belief.

And yet… here she was.

He could remember all of those details, and yet he'd somehow forgotten just how striking she was. Her squared shoulders, her flaming hair, those lips, that skin…

Cullen collapsed into the chair beside the fire and hid his head in his hands.

Seeing her again had stirred up things deep inside him, things he hadn't ever expected to feel again.

But now she hated him.

He was just as hopeless as he'd ever been, but it had never felt this terrible.

* * *

Haven had changed a lot in the years since Solana had last been there. For one thing, no cultist villagers trying to kill her. That made a nice change. The town was mostly an encampment now. Rows of tents filled every spare space and it had a lively comradery. The exact comradery that had been missing at the Warden keep. But there was little place to be alone, and she _needed_ to be alone. She wasn't accustomed to being around others anymore.

Not far outside the main gates, she found a small lake – frozen over – with a jetty that offered a good view of the surrounding area. She sat at the end of it and thought back on the last hour.

They wanted to make her Inquisitor.

She'd declined, several times.

"But you're the only one who can do this," Leliana had insisted. "We need someone who can unite everyone under one banner for the common good. You've done it before."

Exactly. She'd done it before. She'd done it when she'd been young and foolhardy and desperate. And she'd lost everything.

She twisted the ring on her finger. She also hadn't been vulnerable to the Calling.

She'd suggested to Leliana that the strapping man who everyone was suddenly worshiping be given the job. People seemed to listen to him.

Solana only wanted their assistance with the Grey Warden situation. Which they'd be happy to provide, on condition she could wait until they got rid of that hole in the sky.

Could she wait? Or would her blood summon her to the Deep Roads before they were ready? And what of the other Wardens? What of Falin and Cassey and the tranquil? Could they wait?

A noise behind her startled her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you."

Cullen.

She rose slowly to her feet. His eyes darted away from hers. His hands were perched on his sword hilt and she didn't know what to make of that.

The silence between them grew uncomfortable.

"Nice scar," she said to break it.

He touched his lip, his mouth twitched. "Oh, yes. That's new. Well… relatively speaking."

He was still struggling to look at her. Why had he approached her if he hadn't wanted to -

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he said softly.

His tone was unexpected. It brought back memories from before the abominations. He'd always been soft like that, and kind. Not like some of the other Templars.

When she didn't respond, his gaze flicked to hers again. "I wanted to… apologise."

"For what?"

He snorted, coming closer, gazing out at the lake, at his men training not far from where they stood. "Do you have to ask?" He glanced at her, then back out at the lake. "I was a different person the last time we saw each other. I wanted to assure you of that."

"You'd been tortured."

"Yes. And I'd seen things… corruptions… that I hadn't dreamed possible before. That doesn't excuse the things I said. Or the things I asked you to do. But I want you to know that I wouldn't… I'm not…" he wiped his face with his hand. "This sounded better in my head."

"You wanted me to know that you're not still seeking an opportunity to kill all mages?"

He seemed to turn a shade paler, which was impressive considering he was already almost as pale as the snowy backdrop behind him. He nodded. "You've heard we're allied with the mages now?"

"Don't tell me that was your idea?"

"It wasn't. But I… you're in no danger here. From me. Or anyone else. I mean, it's a good group of people."

"Did Leliana send you to try convince me to become the Inquisitor?"

"No. Although, if you think it might work, I'd be willing to give it a try?"

He offered her a smile, a smile that took her back years. It made her stomach clench. She'd forgotten that. What had happened at the Circle that dark day had erased everything that had come before.

"It won't."

"Tell me again what's happening with the Wardens?"

"They want to perform blood magic to raise an army of demons to attack the old Gods before they wake and prevent any future blights." That was the just of it, at any rate.

He blinked at her. "Blood magic, demons. Just like old times then?

She drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders as a chill wind swept up off the ice. "I preferred the last apocalypse. At least then we knew what we were facing."


	5. A sword to pierce the sun

Trevelyan skid down the embankment with all the grace of a minor lord let out of his manor for the first time. He reached out at the last moment, catching a branch to steady himself.

Solana tried not to laugh.

"Leliana told me I'd find you here." He offered her a dazzling smile.

She pulled a thread taunt, and looped it around again. "I'm not used to being around people."

A little way outside Haven's gates, along a woodland path, she'd found an old alchemist's cottage. The previous occupant had been at the conclave and no one had come to lay claim to what he'd left behind. She'd taken everything useful to the apothecary, Adan, and had moved herself into the empty room. It was peaceful and in the afternoon she could sit outside and help with whatever work she could find. At the moment she was stitching a net one of the Inquisition hunters had requested.

"How can I help you, Herald of Andraste?"

"You're mocking me."

She gave him a small smile, pulled the thread.

"We've found another Warden. In Ferelden."

Her fingers paused. "How curious."

"Leliana thought you might want to know. I'm going to Redcliffe to meet with him. Would you like to come along?"

"To Redcliffe?" Redcliffe was five days' ride each way. "Are you sure it's wise to go now? I thought you were supposed to be mending the sky?"

He chuckled. "Yes, apparently our mages need equipment and training. Don't worry, I'll be back in time for that. You didn't answer my question."

"Why me?"

He came closer, more sure-footed, hands on his hips. He had a slight swagger. "I'd be lying if I said it wasn't partly for your celebrity. We need allies."

"You have the mages."

"There's a power vacuum in Southern Thedas right now. Closing the Breach is only the beginning of what we need to do. Leliana said you yourself came through Redcliffe. You saw what it's like. The people need us."

"Spoken like a true noble."

"Does my title disturb you?"

She shrugged. "No, take it as a compliment. You want to make a positive difference and you honestly believe you can. That's good. I only wish I had your confidence. What makes you think people will follow you over, say, the queen?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to challenge her. That's not what I meant at all. But after what happened with the Venatori in Redcliff, her position is rocky at best."

"And your Inquisition can provide stability?"

He leaned against the wall beside her, looking out toward the forest. "I hope it can. And it's not _my_ Inquisition, it's ours. I thought you'd decided to stay?"

It's not like she had a choice. Assuring them of her assistance was the only way she'd been able to guarantee their help with the Wardens.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Ser Trevelyan –"

"- My name is Maxwell. Please call me Max?"

"Max. I imagine that people in Redcliffe will be very impressed that you've somehow lured the Hero of Ferelden down from the mountains to support your cause, but I'm not in the business of recruitment anymore. My army-building days are behind me."

"You speak as if you're ancient."

"Isn't that what legends are supposed to be?"

"I can never tell if you're serious." His green eyes darted to hers. "For what it's worth, you're not ancient. You saved the world at what, 19? I'm sure it all feels like downhill from there, but none would call you an old woman." Then with a crack of a smile, "There's time yet to save the world again."

She laughed. "No, I think this time you get that dubious honour."

He sighed, tilting his head back to look at the sky, the Breach. "We can only hope."

After he left, Solana found it difficult to concentrate on her stitches. Perhaps she should have agreed. Perhaps a trip to Redcliff would have distracted her from the thirst of the Calling. At the very least, it would have felt more constructive than sitting around waiting for them to close the Breach.

Something else he'd said nagged at her. _Our mages need training._

Of course they did. Most of them would be Circle Mages, like Cassey and Falin, who had never seen any kind of battle outside of a Harrowing. They'd know how to channel magic, but only in the most basic of ways. The Circles never let you fully flex your powers. You were taught as much as you needed to suppress your abilities, govern them. What would be asked of them now would far surpass that.

She set the net down. She wasn't about to save the world again, but she could at least help.

* * *

"I want to train the mages."

Cullen stared at her. She'd found him in front of the gates, directing his raw recruits with one hand and signing reports with the other.

"They have enchanters." He turned and marched in front of his men. "Use your shield! It's not a decoration!"

"They have _Circle_ enchanters." She trotted after him. "I've picked up other things over the years, things they don't teach there."

A flick of his eyes was indication that she should have chosen her words more carefully. He was suspicious of any magic that wasn't Chantry-approved.

"What you're asking of them – what the Inquisition expects of them – it's much more than they're trained for."

"The Herald will do most of the work. From what I understand, he merely needs to tap into their power."

"Spoken as one who doesn't understand the first thing about how magic works."

He stopped mid stride and turned back to her. The movement was so sudden that she almost walked into him.

"That's not true."

Of course it wasn't. He'd lived in the Circle for years.

"I didn't mean offence, Commander. But you're oversimplifying. Channeling raw energy is different for us. It's nothing like a lyrium high."

He swallowed, drew in a deep breath. When he didn't say anything, she persisted. "It requires a well of energy, of willpower, and a constant level projection of it without interruption. Asking mages without training to do that, it's asking for injury. To themselves, or to others."

"Which is why I didn't want to use them."

"No, I don't imagine you would have." Their eyes locked. Yes, she knew how he felt, _still_ felt, about mages.

"And you think you can make them – safe – in a matter of days?"

She nodded. "I had to learn fast, myself."

 _Deep below the forgotten ruin, shivering and drained, werewolves hunting them, the sound of their sniffing, claws on stone. Leliana moaning in delirium from the poison, Alistair, eyes wide with panic, all that stood between them and near certain death. Yes, she'd learned fast._

"All right."

She blinked. "All right?"

He started walking again, hands drifting to his sword hilt. "All right, you may train them. On one condition."

"Which is?"

"I'm going to join you."

"Sorry, what?" He didn't slow down, even though she'd stopped. "Oh, you mean in case I take the opportunity to train them in blood magic?"

She said it with a smile, mocking him because she knew he wanted to be there as the obligatory Templar. In his book, no mage training could happen without a Templar present. Even the most innocent of lessons could result in abominations. But he turned to her again, looking mortified.

"No," he spluttered. "No I didn't mean…" and he closed the distance between them. "That's not what I meant at all." He dropped his voice. "I'm more concerned about someone losing control and getting hurt. As you… you were the one who said…"

She clamped her lips together, trying not to laugh at him, but her body trembled traitorously.

He sighed. "You were joking."

"For what it's worth, I've been told it's difficult to tell…"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, I… I'm not known for my sense of humour."

"It's all right. And it's all right if you want to supervise. They'd probably be glad of it."

"Oh, I doubt that. You do know that they've been fighting Templars for the last few months?"

"I've been told. But not all of them wanted to." She thought of Cassey, defending the tranquil. "It may come as a surprise to you, but we don't particularly enjoy the thought of being corrupted."

"I never said…"

"I, for one, always found your presence a comfort."

Had she really just said that?

He looked at her again, a look that was difficult to read. "Your" could have been plural. It wouldn't have been true, of course. Many of the Ferelden Templars had been brutes, not far different from the ones she'd met in the forest the day of the Breach. She'd heard stories of the things that some would do to the helpless mages they watched over. But not him, never him.

"I'll arrange a space for us." His voice was incredibly low, as if there was something stuck in his throat.

"Good. Thank you."

He was still looking at her in that strange way. "You're welcome."

* * *

"I was wondering when you'd seek me out." Fiona smiled mildly and set down her teacup. "I'd imagined it would be sooner."

Solana stood in the doorway of the Grand Enchanter's chambers, feeling a little confused. Was she expecting some move of mage solidarity?

"Sorry, I don't really involve myself in politics."

Sunlight streaked into the dark room from windows far above their heads, painting the floor in bright rectangles. As Fiona stood, her face was highlighted by one such beam. Fiona's eyes raked over Solana. She had an uncomfortably penetrating look.

"Yet, you requested the Circles be free."

Solana swallowed. "I'm not here about the mages. Well I am, but not in the sense you think."

"And what is it I think?"

"I don't know. You said you were expecting me?"

Fiona let out a breath and laughed softly, dropping her gaze to the floor. "Not regarding mages."

"What then?"

"Various other things." She said, cryptically. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Perhaps having something to drink would make Solana feel less awkward. "Yes, thank you. That would be nice."

She came further into the room. The Grand Enchanter lifted the kettle from the fireplace and poured fresh water into a delicate china teapot. Solana settled herself in the chair beside where Fiona had been seated. It was an old creaky wooden thing, and Solana wasn't sure it would even support her weight.

"I am curious about what you thought I was here for?"

Fiona brought the pot to the small table between their seats and laid it down gently. Solana was surprised to see her hands were shaking. "You were recruited by Duncan, weren't you?"

"Duncan the Grey Warden?" _Of course, she meant Duncan the Grey Warden._ "Yes, I was."

The mild smile returned to Fiona's lips. "We were good friends, he and I."

"Really?" That was hard to imagine. Why would Duncan be friends with a Circle Mage?

"Yes, we were initiated together."

"Initiated?"

"The Joining."

Solana was pretty sure her mouth dropped open. Her reaction must have been amusing because Fiona laughed again. "I see, you didn't know I was once a Warden. Forgive me, it is common knowledge."

"Were once? But how?"

"I wish I knew. Things… happened. And the taint was removed from me. After that, I was no longer welcome. Honey?"

Solana nodded numbly. "I… but…" Removed the taint? So she was not suffering The Calling. She hadn't been lured away like the others. "We need to find out how. The Wardens…"

"I know, I'm aware. You never mentioned to the Inquisition that The Calling was involved, but I assumed. Did I assume correctly?"

Again, Solana nodded. Fiona passed her a cup, then settled down beside her with a sigh. "You did well to keep the secret after so long."

"I didn't think it was important that they know."

"Ah, yes. And then there's the matter of your sanity, which you wouldn't want them to have cause to doubt." There was no accusation in her tone. Her expression was frank and open. "I know what The Calling does to one's mind. Which is one of the reasons I expected you sooner. I expected you'd come seeking a cure. I wish I could help you. I have looked, believe me."

"Only one of the reasons?"

"You picked up on that did you?" Fiona took another sip of her tea. "It's not important. I had assumed that Duncan may have said something to you of me, but if he didn't then that's of no concern."

Solana narrowed her eyes. "Were you two… involved?"

"No, no, nothing like that. But he was a good friend, as I said. I thought that perhaps he may have mentioned to you, or to… Alistair, to seek me out. As an ally if nothing else."

"To Alistair?"

" _You_ were involved, weren't you?"

After so many years, why did it still feel like a cold punch to the stomach whenever someone said his name? "Yes. But… but not at the time when we knew Duncan. In truth, I didn't know Duncan very well. He… passed shortly after I was recruited." She stared down into her cup. " _They_ were close, the two of them. He may have said something to Alistair about you."

"Is it true what they say?" Her tone had changed. Her voice had taken on an intensity. "Is it true that he sacrificed himself to take the final blow?"

"Duncan?" Solana didn't know exactly how Duncan had died. He'd died on the field of battle, probably defending his king.

"No." Fiona set her cup on the table, and her gaze stayed locked on it. No of course she didn't mean Duncan. _The final blow._

A shiver chased through Solona. She didn't want to return to that moment, the moment that played itself over and over in her head whenever she let her guard down.

"Duncan trained him well," she said. "He did his duty." When Fiona didn't say anything, but continued to stare at the cup, Solana added, "Duncan would have been proud. We only… we only found out the night before that one of us had to do it. Riordan was going to do it. When he… couldn't, I thought I would be the one but Alistair… I think he felt responsible, because of his royal blood."

Fiona pulled away from the teacup, she had the look of someone drawing into herself.

"Sorry, you don't want to hear about Alistair. I wish I could tell you more about Duncan. He seemed like a good man."

"It's quite all right. He was a good man. And it seems that your Alistair was too."

"He was. A very good man."

Fiona's answering smile seemed fragile. Had she been lying about a relationship between her and Duncan? To what purpose? It didn't really matter, Solana supposed. The woman was entitled to her secrets.

"So, what did you really come here to enquire about, if not about The Calling?" she asked, sitting back with her hands neatly folded in her lap.

"I'd like to train the mages."

* * *

Disclaimer: I am still waiting for my copy of _The Calling_ to arrive, so again if Fiona doesn't seem quite right then I throw down the smoke bomb of "alt universe" and run away ^_^


	6. Remember the fire

Cullen had found them a space a little way from the main gates, partly isolated by trees. He stood at the ready; back straight, eyes locked ahead, as if preparing for war.

In front of him the Inquisition's mages stood in ranks. His doing, Solana assumed.

"Morning everyone, sorry for the delay." She approached them carrying a stool in one arm and a bucket of water in the other, which kept threatening to slosh out. Between that and the risk of it freezing over before they got anywhere, she was starting to wonder if the training exercise she had in mind was such a good idea.

Cullen must have seen her predicament because he rushed over to help, taking the stool so she could concentrate on the water.

"You can all relax," she said to her charges. "We're not going to be doing drills."

The last was aimed at the Commander, but she didn't see his reaction. She was focusing her attention on keeping the bucket steady.

 _I should have salted it. That would have helped._

She set it down on the stool in front of the mages and saw they hadn't shifted from their ranks.

"Really, this will be easier if you gather closer." They started shifting hesitantly towards her. "You needn't be afraid of me."

She looked to Cullen for guidance, but he was grim-faced and glaring at them. She sighed. Agreeing to have him here may not have been the wisest idea after all.

"What I want to show you here today is an exercise in control. When you close the Breach, you're going to need to channel energy in a specific direction and have complete command over it."

Solana reached out over the surface of the water and slowly raised her hand. As if drawn by magnetic force, a thin stream rose with it, out of the bucket and into the air. She closed her hand into a fist, and the water likewise balled.

"I'm not controlling the water," she said. "I'm controlling my magic around the water." As if to emphasize the point, she let the water drop, to be caught in an invisible cup above the edge of the bucket.

"The Circle teaches you barriers. What I'm doing is little different, but requires far more control." She rolled the water in its non-existent container, keeping it moving so it didn't freeze. The surface sparkled in the sunlight.

Cullen wasn't standing far away. In fact, he was within arm's reach.

 _Hmmm..._

"Don't worry, Commander. It's not dangerous." With a small gesture, a tendril of water reached out from the cup. She glanced at him. He was watching with interest. She gave a flick of a finger and the water leapt forward, splashing him in the face.

Cullen yelped and stumbled backwards.

The mages roared with laughter, their earlier tension forgotten.

Cullen wiped his face with his hand and she felt a little bad for him. "Was that really necessary?"

"Oh no, not at all." But it was important that the mages realise that he wasn't in charge here, that they had nothing to fear. "But I did enjoy it." She offered him a smile.

To her surprise, he smiled back. He pursed his lips, as if trying to control the expression and failing. Then he shook his head and sighed.

"Who wants to try?" She called to the mages. "The control part not… wetting the Commander."

"No, I'd appreciate it if you didn't attempt that part," Cullen added. He still seemed to be struggling with his expression. The rebellious smile kept pulling at the corners of his mouth, thwarting any attempt to look stern.

Her heart gave an unwelcome thud at that smile.

So, she still found him attractive. Who wouldn't? He was classically handsome, the epitome of the gallant knight. But he didn't trust mages. And besides, she had enough to concern herself with, without adding complications like desire.

Tentative mages stepped forward a few at a time and she showed them the basic concept behind her trick. Some were better at it than others. She was dealing with vastly different skill levels. The young apprentices could barely lift the water, some of them couldn't at all. But the more seasoned mages mastered the spell in a few gestures and they smiled with delight as they played with the water. Their expressions were a reminder of just how restrictive the Circle had been.

You did as you were told. You didn't _play_.

"I hate to break up the party," Cullen said after some time. "I have drills, I have to go."

Had it been an hour already? She nodded acknowledgement and instructed the mages to return at the same time the next day.

"You want help with this?" Cullen lifted the bucket.

"No, it's alright. Your men are waiting for you."

"I have some time."

She didn't need the help. She'd been living alone for a decade. She was strong enough to manage, and if the water poured out over her feet on the way back to the little cottage, it hardly mattered.

"Okay, thank you, that would be nice," she said, regardless.

She took the stool and they cut through the trees, walking in silence. She admired the way he moved, a perfect combination of grace and control. Did they teach that in Templar training or was that just how he was?

"Interesting tactic," he said at length.

"Oh, the cup trick? It seemed to go down well. Did you see some of their faces? They'd never been allowed to experiment like that before."

"No, not _that_ trick." He glanced at her and allowed himself a lop-sided smile.

Her heart skittered again. "You mean when I attacked you."

A low chuckle. "Yes."

"I wasn't doing it to humiliate you."

"Yes, you were. You were doing it to cut me down to size, so your students weren't intimidated by my presence."

It was her turn to offer him a smile. He'd seen through her. "For what it's worth, I didn't plan it in advance. It came to me in the moment. You were standing there, so stern…"

"I should point out that it's my duty to look stern."

"… and I wanted to make you smile."

His step faltered.

She was mortified by her own frankness. There were many ways he could interpret the statement. She didn't know whether she should backpedal or let it sit there, innocently hanging between them.

"Are you all right, Commander?"

"Yes," he didn't look at her. "Yes, perfectly."

He cleared his throat, but other than that made no other sound for a few minutes. Then, suddenly, he strode past her, bending to inspect one of the tangled shrubs at the side of their path. "Look, blackberries."

She watched with interest as he hankered down, examining the plant. "I haven't seen these in years."

She went to join him, sinking to her haunches beside him. "Personally, not a fan."

He chuckled again, "Yes, I remember. Raisins, berries, any small fr-" he stopped, glancing at her furtively. "I'm sorry, I have a strange memory for details."

He remembered her dietary preference? She longed to ask him what else he remembered about her. "That's quite impressive."

A flicker of a smile. "It can be useful. Though not as often as one would think."

"Stand for a second?"

"What?" His brow creased, but he followed her instruction.

She kicked over the bucket, sending icy water and mud in a small stream back the way they'd come. "There you go, Commander. As a thank you for arranging today. And… as an apology too, for that 'tactic'."

He stared at her blankly.

"The bucket. Fill it with berries."

"Oh, I… no, I couldn't. I should get back."

With a sigh, she crouched again and plucked one of the juicier bunches, plopping it into the empty bucket. "Come on, Commander, many hands make light work."

He joined her, sitting so close that they were almost touching. "This brings back memories." She watched his deft fingers as they made quick work of the bush. "My sister and I always used to go berry picking around this time of year".

 _His sister._ Well, it was better she remind him of that than abomination-about-to-occur.

"Before you joined the Templars?"

"Yes. We'd take full baskets to mother who'd boil them into jam. Of course, we would have eaten our fill on the way home. I still remember the one time they were already over-ripe. So many berries burst in our fingers that we were sticky right up to our elbows. We never heard the end of it. She had to wash our clothes three times to get all of the juice out."

Solana laughed, trying to imagine Cullen ever being anything but perfectly immaculate.

"I wish I had memories like that."

"You don't have memories from your childhood?" he prompted.

She shook her head. "My very first memory is of the Chantry at the Circle. They were reading us the Chant of Light."

"Oh, I didn't realise… that's truly your first memory, the Chant?"

"It sounds far more holy than it is. I was desperate for the bathroom, but had to sit through six verses before they'd let me leave. The true miracle that day was how I didn't wet myself."

Cullen burst out laughing, a proper belly laugh with his head thrown back. It was the first time she'd ever heard him laugh, aside from the odd chuckle. It was a deep melodious sound and if his smile did things to her, that was nothing compared to what was happening now. He seemed to come back to himself, covering his mouth, eyes rolling to meet hers. "That's truly your first memory?"

She was flushed with warmth, the pleasant kind that made her tingly. She would have told him anything in that moment. "My first proper one. The others are more – snippets. A pigeon landing on the window sill, light dancing across glass. I think my mother's hair was red like mine, but I don't recall her face."

"You aren't curious about who she was?"

"No, not really. She gave me over to the Circle."

"It's possible she had little choice. If your powers manifested early."

"Yes. I know that."

"Sorry, I didn't –"

"It's okay. My parents did the right thing. I just mean, the Circle was the only home I knew before I was recruited to the Wardens. It's difficult to miss something you've never had."

Alistair had. He'd wanted a family more than anything. When she'd rescued him from the sloth demon that had trapped him dreaming his deepest desire, he'd been with his sister, entertaining nieces and nephews. Her gaze dropped to the ring automatically, the feeling of warmth dissipating.

"It must have been difficult for you, seeing it destroyed like that," Cullen said softly.

He'd misinterpreted her sudden change, and she was grateful for it. "It was."

"I can only imagine. It was my home for only a few years but seeing what ha-" he swallowed. "It was never really the same after that. They rebuilt but…" He trailed off. She noticed he was no longer picking berries, his hands were paused at the bush, the tips of his fingers sticky with juice. He blinked and shook his head as if trying to rid himself of a bad memory. "I should get back."

"Thank you for the help."

"Thank you for the berries." He rose to his feet and picked up the bucket.

"See you later?"

"Yes." A small, guarded smile.


	7. Too long in shadow

The Circle Mages weren't very good at looking after themselves. Many, like Solana, had been raised in the Circles, where they'd had everything provided for them. They arrived at Haven almost skeletal with hunger, injured and traumatised by the war they'd suddenly found themselves in the middle of.

The Inquisition had been promised allies, not charges, but it was painfully obvious from day one that these particular allies needed more than a helping hand. It was organised without much fuss. They were given accommodation – not at all up to the standards they were accustomed to, but warm enough when the braziers were lit. And every night the entire Inquisition dined together. Meals were prepared on large open fires and soldiers, Chantry, mages and Templars sat site-by-side eating pieces of meat and whatever grilled vegetables had been sourced that day.

When the smell of roasting meat drifted to Solana's little cottage on the breeze, she'd bundle up in her cloak and go join them. The company was nice and the food was better than anything she'd be able to prepare herself.

This time, there was someone waiting for her outside her door. It was a petite blonde woman in dusty robes. She didn't carry a staff – dangerous in these woods.

She startled when Solana came out of the cottage, then cleared her throat. "Good evening, Hero, I wanted to have…" She gazed down at her feet. "I'd like to talk to you, if I may?"

"It's just Solana." She corrected her automatically. "How long have you been waiting out here?"

The woman offered a shaky smile. "Not too long. I didn't want to disturb you."

"They'll be serving food soon. Come on, we can talk while we walk." She started toward the path that she'd taken with Cullen earlier in the day. The mage walked along beside her, in uncomfortable silence.

Eventually Solana prompted, "Is this about the lesson? We're going to go through the technicalities again tomorrow. Don't worry if you haven't fully grasped it yet."

The woman shook her head. Her thin hair lashed from side to side, catching the orange light of the setting sun. There was something vaguely familiar about her.

"I'm sorry, have we met before?"

"Long ago, yes. I… My name's Celeste." She took a deep breath. "You... spared my life at the Ferelden Circle."

And then Solana knew. _Curled up on the floor, shivering, staring up at her with big, green eyes. The maleficar. Her friends had become abominations. She'd begged Solana for her life and Solana had given it to her._

"I remember now." Her hair had been red then.

"I wanted to assure you that I'm not, that I haven't… I don't do that anymore," the girl babbled. "I thought you'd recognise me and tell – please don't tell the Commander."

She was Cullen's worst fear, a blood mage who'd slipped into their ranks. An unpredictable element, a couple of spells away from becoming an abomination.

"The Commander only wants to keep everyone safe."

"Yes, I know. I'm not a danger. I promise."

Had she been involved in his torture? "You know what happened to him at the Circle?"

"I don't… not personally. But I can imagine. Some of them were… cruel to the Templars."

Cruel, yes, that was one way to put it. All who hadn't evacuated in time had been tortured to death. All except Cullen, who had somehow held on long enough to be rescued. "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't take you to him right now?"

The mage swallowed. "If you feel you need to, I… I will come willingly. I'm not armed. But you should know that I haven't practiced blood magic since then, nor would I want to. I only sought my freedom."

"And you were happy to kill others to obtain it?"

"No! No not happy. I…" she took a deep breath. "I have a son. He's ten now and living with his aunt in Denerim. I did what I did for him."

"You were pregnant?"

The woman stared straight ahead, expression grim. "The Templar wanted me to terminate."

"The Templar?"

"The father."

"I see." If their relationship had been discovered, they both would have been punished. He would have been thrown out of the Order, possibly died from Lyrium withdrawal. The child would have been taken by the Chantry, raised in an orphanage.

"Please believe me when I say I didn't want to hurt anyone but him."

"You wanted to hurt the father of your child?" The mage was silent and realisation dawned on Solana. "Oh." She felt sick. "Why didn't you report him? If he… they're not supposed to be able to do that."

Celeste gave a hollow laugh. "It would have been my word against his. He assured me that Knight-Commander Greagoir would have had me made tranquil, but not before I felt his own wrath. I was young and scared. I don't know if I would have taken the same course of action now. I've seen what… I've seen abominations. I saw what became of the Tower."

Solana didn't know what to say. They could see the fires through the trees now and hear the sound of laughter and many people talking. She wanted to tell Cullen, she wanted him to see why the Circles were such a bad idea. But she didn't know how he'd react. Templars were supposed to kill maleficarum.

"Your secret's safe with me."

"Thank you." The woman smiled. "I won't forget this, Solana. I promise I won't let you down."

* * *

Cullen had spent the better part of the day trying not to smile. It was like the corners of his mouth were bewitched, they kept moving upwards of their own accord.

He couldn't stop thinking about her.

 _I wanted to make you smile…_

She'd really said that. She'd said other things too, but they were more difficult to interpret. Like how she'd found his presence a comfort – had it been _his_ presence? Or the presence of all Templars?

What she'd said about making him smile could be explained away too, he reasoned. It could be that he scared the mages with his dour expression. And even if she had meant that she wanted him to be happy, that in itself had a variety of possible interpretations. But all of them came to the same main point: she didn't hate him.

She didn't hate him and maybe they could even be friends. It had been good talking to her, sharing stories about their past. Words had come easily for once. Oh, he'd get splashed in the face and publicly humiliated a million times for more chances like that.

And he laughed at himself because he knew he was behaving like a lovestruck teenager. He should be more level-headed. He was the military leader of the Inquisition. Yet his smile kept escaping his control.

Solana always sat with the Inquisition's council when they ate. He expected this was due to her friendship with Leliana. The past nights, Leliana and her had talked together softly, catching up on the years they'd been apart. But this time when Cullen arrived, Solana was in the middle of sharing a story.

"And the acorn was his only child!"

Josephine groaned and shook her head. "But you'd traded for the book?"

"Yes. And he didn't want anything else I had."

Varric, Dorian and Solas had gone with the Herald and Cassandra was out on patrol, so perhaps a smaller group had brought her out of her shell.

He settled down next to Josephine. "I seem to have missed the part of this story that made sense."

Leliana laughed. "Solana is recounting the story of how she got her staff."

"I'm not certain how much of it I believe," Josephine said. She was grinning. "But do continue."

"So to recap for our Commander," Solana's eyes met his for a second and his heart leapt. "We were in the West Brecilian Forest when we encountered an old hermit who'd gone insane."

Leliana jumped in, "Solana felt for him and wanted to give him a pair of boots. But he wouldn't accept charity, only trade."

"Actually, it was Alistair who felt for him," Solana corrected her. "He insisted we didn't move on until we'd helped him."

"That's not how I remember it."

"Regardless," Solana's attention turned back to Cullen. "He had three items in his possession. A book, a rusty helmet and an acorn."

"And you chose the book?" He guessed, based on what he'd heard when he'd joined them.

"I thought reading material would be the most useful."

"But she was wrong." Leliana's full smile was as beautiful as it was rare. "A little later we come to a clearing, and in the centre was the Grand Oak, an ancient sylvan. It knew the secrets of the forest."

Cullen shook his head. "You expect me to believe you spoke to a tree?"

"Oh yes, Commander. And it spoke in rhyme."

Josephine giggled and Cullen was pretty sure it was at his expense. "You forgot to mention the part with the werewolf."

"Yes, of course." Leliana leaned forward, speaking softly with the dramatic flair of a trained bard. "The reason we were in the forest in the first place. The Spirit of the Forest resided at the centre, leading a pack of werewolves."

"The spirit. Of the forest?" Cullen noticed there were others listening now, many seemingly as incredulous as he.

"Leliana is making it sound more fantastical than it was," Solana explained. "The spirit had been bound by a mage. We needed to deal with the wolves in order to secure the assistance of the Dalish clans against the Blight, and she was the key. But she'd warded the part of the forest where she resided to protect her pack. We were wandering the woods seeking a way through."

"Which is when we encountered the Grand Oak," Leliana said. "He had the knowledge of the forest, and he had a way we could get through the spirit's barrier. But guess what he wanted in return? The acorn! Apparently the very acorn that the hermit had socked away was the Oak Tree's only child."

"But you didn't have anything left to trade with him?" Josephine asked. "What did you do?" she was looking to Solana.

Solana's eyes dropped to her hands, where she began twisting that ring of hers. "Some of the Dalish who had become wolves remembered their old lives. There was one who asked us to – to put her out of her misery. She gave me a scarf of hers to take back to her husband in the village."

Josephine sighed. "I thought this was going to be a happy story."

"You wanted the truth," Leliana shrugged. "The scarf wasn't his wife any more than that ring is Alistair."

It was as if a bucket of icy water dropped on the group. Solana's eyes snapped up to Leliana's. She stopped playing with the ring. For a moment the two women simply stared at each other. Then Solana cleared her throat.

"The hermit didn't have much by way of clothing and it was heading into winter. We offered him the scarf, and he was willing to trade."

Cullen was acutely aware that the mood had changed. He recognised the expression she was wearing. He'd seen it on his own face in the mirror often enough. Guilt and regret. "You may well have saved his life. Hypothermia is no small matter."

Solana gave him a small smile. "Well, the tree was delighted. I can tell you, without reservation, that I have never seen a tree so happy."

Josephine had a good false laugh, as far as false laughs went. She'd probably honed it over years of courtiering. He chuckled too, because he appreciated Solana's attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

"I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that it could talk," he said.

"So, it gave you the secret to breaching the spirit's barrier?" Josephine queried.

Solana nodded and reached for her staff, which she wore strapped to her back at all times. It was a gnarled piece of wood with a rune affixed to the very top. Cullen had never realised how short it was before. "And that's how I got my staff."

"So, am I to assume that you defeated the spirit of the forest?" Cullen prompted.

Solana's lips curved into an almost-smile. "Actually, we negotiated with her. But, that's a tale for another day." She rose to her feet. "If you'll excuse me, I find myself quite exhausted." She gave them a small nod of farewell. Her gaze fell on Cullen, "I'll see you in the morning?"

He nodded.

Josephine followed not long after, and Cullen found himself alone with Leliana. Someone had picked up a lute and was playing a jolly song that did nothing to lift his spirits.

At length he asked, "She and that Alistair, they were close?"

Leliana didn't flinch at the sudden question. "Oh, yes." She was watching the fire, nodding along to the tune. "They would have married had they the opportunity."

"Ah." That explained the ring. He'd noticed it earlier in the day too, the way she twisted it whenever deep in thought or uncertain.

"He was the love of her life," Leliana said. The spymaster must have been uncharacteristically oblivious to the effect of her words. She was wistful as she spoke, as if telling one of her bard stories. "I don't know if she'll ever truly be over that loss."

Then she turned to Cullen, with a little quirk of a smile. "Why Commander, you don't still carry a torch for her?"

She'd been privy to all his insane confessions at the Circle.

"Of course not."

By the way she eyed him, he could tell she didn't believe him.

He looked away from her. "It's been far too long for that."

"As you say, Commander."

* * *

Cullen was waiting for her, with the bucket at his feet, when Solana arrived for their morning training session.

She smiled with relief. "I thought you might forget it."

His eyes darted away from hers. "I wasn't certain you still wanted it."

"I do."

"Good."

They stood in silence. It would be a few minutes before the other mages arrived.

"I filled it up with water," Cullen said eventually. "I assumed you would be performing the same exercises as yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Good."

He still wasn't looking at her.

"Is something the matter, Commander?"

He startled. "No. No, nothing's the matter. Nothing at all."

"If I did or said anything to make you uncomfortable…"

His eyes met hers for a second. They were the colour of honey. He seemed about to speak when they heard the mages approaching. Solana turned towards them, but Cullen caught her arm.

"You didn't," he said quickly. "You haven't done anything wrong."

Then why did his eyes look so pained? Her heart was pounding in her throat at his touch, even though they were separated by robe and cloak and glove.

He moved away, standing to attention. She tried to gather herself for the lesson ahead.

* * *

Cullen watched her working with the mages and it made his heart swell. She was a natural tutor, accomplished and kind. She'd joke with them about old instructors at the Ferelden Circle and he'd find himself chuckling along. She'd lightly tease when the younger mages made the same mistake more than once. But she was never harsh or cruel. By the end of the hour, even the least accomplished were pouring water from invisible cups. And more, the atmosphere had changed. The mages were laughing and patting each other on the back. The one even did a little dance when she finally got the spell right.

He could admire Solana from a distance like this, like he always had. He needed to accept that was all there would ever be. Perhaps they could even be friends, colleagues.

But her heart, that he could never have. Even if there hadn't been so much politics between them, if she hadn't been a mage and he hadn't been a Templar. If he had never said those things to her at the Circle. There would still be the ghost of the bastard prince.

This should be enough. It would be enough. He'd accept it. He had to, for his own sanity.

"Commander?"

He started, realising she and the rest of the mages were looking at him expectantly. So much for being their guardian.

Solana seemed amused. "Welcome back. I was just saying, I think we should meet out on the lake tomorrow, by the old fisherman's hut?"

"Yes, of course." He couldn't imagine why.

"There you have it. I look forward to seeing what you all can accomplish with more water at your disposal."

 _More water… wait, what?_

She meant to use the lake water for her exercises? There was nothing he could do now, he'd already agreed and the mages were heading back towards Haven chattering excitedly.

She'd played him. He could tell by the way she was smiling at him. She knew he hadn't heard her plan.

"Don't look so terrified, it will be fine."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sure I can pull Frederick and Davidson of their duty shifts to assis-"

She touched his arm and all thoughts flew out of his head. She was standing close. Too close. And looking up into his face. "It will be _fine_ ," she repeated.

Sweet Andraste he wanted to kiss her.

The craving was almost worse than lyrium. Like a physical force pulling at him, telling up to take her in his arms right then and kiss her.

The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that she wouldn't want it. At best it would frighten her, at worse she'd see it as a betrayal of trust. Either way one kiss would ruin what little they had, their budding friendship. And he wouldn't put that at risk for anything.

He cleared his throat and stepped away.

"Do you – would you like help back to your cottage again?"

"If it's not a bother?"

"It's no trouble at all".

* * *

"What were you thinking about?"

They'd been walking in companionable silence for some time, him carrying the bucket, her the stool.

"Hmm?"

"You seem distracted today," she pressed. "Inquisition business?"

"Yes."

"Well what is it? Maybe I can help?"

"Oh, it's always something." A small half-smile. "I'd rather we talk about you."

"Me?" A nervous knot tightened in her stomach.

"Where have you been all these years? I mean, I know where you've _been_. I meant, well, I'm sure you have stories. I'm sure you've seen a great many incredible things."

"Like talking trees?"

His low chuckle sent her head reeling. "Yes. Like talking trees."

"Has Leliana told you about the dragon?"

"The… no. No, she has not."

"Well, then let's start with that."


	8. Mighty of arm and warmest of heart

The morning sun glinted off the ice. Solana was already at the place where they'd agreed they'd meet, stepping across the frozen lake on her tiptoes and prodding at the surface with her staff. She looked like an Orlesian dancer, the kind whose movements required a detailed programme to decode. Her hair was tied up in a loose knot, and her cloak swished from side to side as she moved.

"Need some help?" Cullen called to her.

Her answering smile flushed him with warmth. "Did you manage to get those men? The ones you were going to move off their duty shifts?"

"No, I…" He hadn't bothered. He'd convinced himself he was being paranoid. Or, if he was to be honest, he'd been concerned that _she_ might think him paranoid.

She came closer, she was still smiling – a good sign. "Well then I'm going to have to enlist you."

"Enlist-?"

"We need to break the ice. I've marked places where it's already thin."

"You're not concerned we'll fall in?"

"Not if we're careful."

They spent the next few minutes carefully cracking the ice and Cullen wondered if there was anyone else he would so gladly do menial labour for. When the first mages arrived, Solana issued them the same instructions she'd given him. Eventually they had a patch of open water near the bank and Solana stood back with her hands on her hips, satisfied.

"Alright. Let's get things started. We're going to do the same spell, but on a larger scale."

She raised both arms slowly and the water rose with them, into a wall of liquid. She cut the air with a gesture, and then she was holding the water again as if in a giant bowl.

"You'll want to be careful, it's quite heavy." He could see from her posture that her muscles were straining. She held it for only a moment, then tilted her magic to the side, letting the water pour back into the lake.

 _Show off_ , he thought. But his cheeks did that thing again where he couldn't help but smile.

She cautioned the mages to start small, and then came to stand with him to observe the fallout. They were far less successful than she had been. One almost fell into the water with the weight of it. The others seemed to struggle to hold the spell for very long, with the water splashing back onto the lake to great dramatic effect.

"You see what I mean?" Solana asked.

Cullen didn't know what she meant. Her cheeks were flushed with the cold, her eyes were bright, keenly watching her charges. He couldn't stop staring.

When he didn't respond she turned her full attention to him. "You see how they struggle to hold the spell for more than a few minutes? Imagine the Herald was at their mercy."

As if to underscore her statement, another spell failed, sending icy water into the lake at such a velocity that everyone nearby had to jump back to avoid getting wet.

What reaction was she looking for? If he said he was afraid of what the mages might do if let loose on the Breach, she'd no doubt think him the same old paranoid Templar. If he gave her empty assurances, that would mean being dishonest. He was nervous of the mages. He wished the Inquisition had asked the Templars for help instead.

But that would have denied him these precious hours with her.

"You seem to manage," he said.

" _I've_ been out of the Circle for years."

"I only meant your skill is impressive. I have full confidence that you'll be able to train them in time."

Her lips moved into a smile, "Is that a compliment, Commander?"

"I'm merely stating the truth."

Yes, it had been a compliment. And an incredibly clumsy one at that. He fixed his gaze on the mages again.

* * *

The blood mage, Celeste, stepped hesitantly up the edge of the ice.

Solana could see she was nervous. That didn't bode well at all. She tensed automatically, various protection spells coming to the ready.

The woman held her pale hands out over the water. Nothing happened. A look of panic crossed her features, but still nothing happened. There was murmuring from the others, a few shouted jokes.

Hmm, what was this? This didn't make a lot of sense. Those who practiced blood magic were usually naturally powerful. It's how they managed to convince demons to teach them.

She wasn't the first to fail, but her failure was certainly the most curious.

Solana approached her carefully, not wanting to startle her. Celeste had her eyes pressed closed as if she was in pain.

 _In pain… or frightened._

"You don't have to be afraid of your power," Solana said quietly, keeping her voice low so that the other nearby mages couldn't hear.

"I'm not afraid."

"Yes, you are. I can see it." She reached around to clasp the woman's hand. She was icy cold. "Breathe. Cullen's not going to hurt you. Keep your eyes closed, feel the power." Solana moved to the side. A wall of water was beginning to rise out of the lake. "That's it, feel the power. Embrace it."

It was a lot of water, almost the same amount as Solana had raised. "Alright. Now, control it."

The water continued to rise. "I said control it."

"I'm trying."

She attempted to do as Solana had and cup it. She managed, but her magic continued to lift it, up and up, far above their heads.

"You're doing well, just hold it there."

"It's heavy."

Celeste was sweating, her eyes were still squeezed shut. Higher and higher the water rose.

"You can drop it." Solana said, not unkindly. "Let it drop over the lake, we'll try again."

"I can't… I don't want to lose… control."

"It's all right. We'll do the exercise again. Drop the water."

It stayed hovering.

"Drop the –"

And then she did. Except it wasn't over the lake, it was over Solana. Whole gallons of icy water dropped over her head. The pain of impact was dwarfed only by the shock of the cold. She was instantly drenched, spluttering.

The mages were laughing.

And then warm hands were swinging her around, brushing her hair out of her face. Cullen was there. He wrapped his surcoat tightly around her shoulders. The fur brushed her cheek. She was ensconced in his smell, the warmth of him, and she forgot how to breathe.

Did he notice the way he stopped her heart?

"You'll get cold," she said, stupidly, because he still had his armour, and he was dry.

"Not as cold as you, I'd wager." He was still holding the surcoat, and holding her by extension. Then the unthinkable happened. Cullen wrapped an arm around her and drew her in close.

"I'm going to get the Hero in front of a fire," he called to the mages. "We'll meet back here tomorrow."

 _The Hero._

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Celeste was somewhere nearby.

"I'm all right. I'll be fine." Solana tried to speak, but her chattering teeth were making it difficult.

"We can use the Herald's quarters, they're nearest." Cullen was already guiding her – marching her – towards Haven. Her legs could hardly keep up.

They got a few looks as they passed the gates. No doubt everyone would know what had happened within the space of an hour.

Cullen shouldered the door to Max's lodgings open with a grunt, keeping his arms tightly around her.

"Get into bed."

Had she been in a better state of mind, she may have given him some witty retort, but now she stared at him dumbly. "What?"

"Wrap up in the covers, I'll light the fire." He was already on his knees, striking matches. The fireplace had been prepared, kindling and all. Did they ready it daily just in case their Herald should return? She pulled the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around herself as flames roared to life in the grate.

"Here, come here."

She shuffled over to him. He rose, eyes locked on hers. He was standing oh so close. He reached out and she jumped.

"Sorry."

"No I… it's all right."

He touched his surcoat. "It's a little big for you." A flicker of a smile. She nodded.

"You need to get out of those. Um." His gaze dropped to his feet. "Those wet robes. You need to. I'm going to stand outside. You should find some of the Herald's spare – the dresser."

"Don't go."

Maker, what was she saying?

He didn't look up at her again. "I'll be right outside, just a minute. While you um. Dress."

He left and with trembling fingers she stepped out of her boots and stripped off her sodden robes, hanging his surcoat neatly over a hook by the door. As he'd tried to indicate, there was an array of clean clothing in the dresser. She selected a long night shirt. She'd just pulled it over her head when Cullen's gentle knock came and she bade him enter. He continued to avert his eyes, although he stooped to pick up the blanket – still lying by the fire – and hand it to her.

Only when she'd bundled up again did he raise his gaze.

"Feeling better?

She nodded.

His eyes traveled to her clothing, lying in a pile across the room, then back to his feet. Was he embarrassed?

"I'm hardly exposed." Her voice was still quaking from the cold.

"What?"

"How much of my flesh do you see right now?"

"I… why would you ask that?"

He flushed and she immediately regretted asking. She shouldn't be making fun of him when he'd been so kind.

"I'm wearing dry clothing. And a blanket. You have nothing to fear."

"Fear?"

"You don't have to fear seeing anything untoward."

"Untoward…" he repeated, his eyes traveled back to the clothing. Then he seemed to realise what she'd said. His attention snapped back to her and he looked like he might be sick.

She started laughing. She couldn't help it. She tried, clamping a hand over her mouth. But that meant dropping one corner of the blanket and it fell open, giving him a view of the nightshirt.

His eyes went wide and then he turned and made for the door.

"No, don't go. I'm sorry." She gathered the blanket around her again.

He was breathing heavily, but he'd paused.

"If I promise not to let the blanket drop again, will you stay a while? I…"

She didn't have an excuse prepared. Saying she felt awkward in the Herald's room while he wasn't here was true, but felt weak. Saying she felt frightened wouldn't work. She was the Hero, she wasn't supposed to _get_ frightened. The fact that she wanted his company, that she'd been looking forward to talking to him as they walked home, didn't seem a strong enough reason to compel him. She let the sentence drop.

* * *

 _Maker._

One flimsy layer of clothing between him and her skin. All the reason in the world to take her in his arms. And she kept saying these things. Was she playing with him intentionally? Had she cottoned on to how he felt and was now making light?

No. No, she thought him an embarrassed little Chantry boy. He could tell from her laughter. If only she knew the reason he wanted to leave was not his embarrassment but his urges. He wanted her. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything. Years of yearning coupled with freshly discovered desire. And there was a bed right there. A bed and a romantic fire. And she was so cold. She needed his warmth. She was still standing there shivering, wet hair clinging to her face and neck. He should lift it, replace it with his lips.

 _Maker._

His very skin was tingling. If he didn't leave soon she'd see the effect she had on him for herself.

But he couldn't leave when she'd asked him to stay. He was physically incapable. Instead he put space between them, moving to collect her clothing from the floor. It should be hung up by the fire to get dry. It should be…

Underclothes. He forgotten about underclothes.

They were there on the pile (he hadn't touched them, thank Andraste), but that meant she wasn't wearing…

 _Maker grant me strength._

He picked up the robes, _just_ the robes. He closed his eyes and pretended he hadn't seen there was more. Deep breaths. He took her robes to the fireplace and hung them over a chair. They were still dripping, it would be a while before they were dry.

"You didn't need to do that," she said.

"They should… you'll need them." What about her made him this stammering mess?

She climbed into the other chair, carefully tucking the blanket around her.

Hair. Her hair was wet. He crossed the room, retrieved a cloth and handed it to her. When she raised her eyebrows in question he couldn't find a single word to explain what he meant. He wanted to dry it himself, to run his fingers through it, He nodded mutely to her hair.

"Oh, yes." She said. She unpinned it. It tumbled down to her shoulders in glossy wet curls.

 _Sweet Andraste._

He needed to sit. Preferably somewhere with a cushion that he could… hide behind.

He perched on the chair where he'd hung up her robes. She was too busy drying her hair to notice anything.

 _Say something._

"You um… you didn't finish the story. About finding the temple. After… after the dragon."

Her eyes moved to his. A playful smile. "Oh, I'd say it's your turn."

"My turn?" He was struggling to get a single sentence out, how could he tell her a story?

"Tell me about Kirkwall."

That wasn't what he'd expected. He swallowed. "Kirkwall?" He really needed to stop repeating everything she said.

"Everyone keeps expecting me to know what happened there. I know there was a mage uprising. I know you were involved with the Templars. I assume you were trying to suppress the uprising?"

Well, this was an appropriately sobering topic of conversation.

He nodded. "Yes, at first."

"Only at first?"

"Well," _where to start?_ "Knight-Commander Meridith was… unwell. Understand, she wanted to keep everyone safe. Mages and the other citizens of Kirkwall alike. She was deeply respected, even by the Viscount. But then she came into contact with a… strange weapon. She became obsessed with the danger the mages posed, taking increasingly stringent measures – she even entertained ideas about standardising the tranquillity. The mages, as one would expect, started to fight back. Small groups at first, cells that she – we – dealt with easily. But then Varric's friend got involved."

"Falcon?"

He smiled. "Close. Hawke. But no, another friend. Hawke's lover. He was possessed by a demon – I only found out later. A justice demon."

"That sounds bad."

"It was. He blew up the Chantry."

Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Yes." He agreed with her unspoken horror. "Fighting the mages when they were rallying behind him was one thing… but then I discovered that Meridith had ordered the Right of Annulment. She planned to kill every single mage in that city. And if the right wasn't granted in time, she'd do it with her own hands."

"You being one of her hands?"

He nodded. "In essence."

"What did you do?"

"What do you think I did?"

She looked at him carefully. "I remember a time when you would have been the one calling for that right."

A chill lump settled in his chest. "I know."

"Something tells me you weren't this time?"

"No. I… turned on her."

Solana's eyebrows shot up. "You committed mutiny?"

"Essentially, yes."

Her mouth curved. "I never would have thought."

"I joined the Templars to protect innocents, Solana. Not to hunt mages."

His stern response surprised even him. And it certainly surprised her. She stared at him. He realised it was the first time he'd used her name in over a decade. He'd been saying it in his head, like a mantra. He'd been afraid of saying it out loud in case he imbued it with everything he'd been feeling when thinking it. But he certainly hadn't done that now.

"I…" she looked down at her lap. Her hands were tucked away under her blanket, but he imagined she was playing with that ring again. "I know that, Cullen."

Like a bolt of magic to his chest, hearing his name from those lips. She hadn't said it in years either. And now he only wanted to hear it again and again. What was _wrong_ with him? She hadn't even used it fondly.

Her eyes flicked up to his. "I was remarking on, well, you're not exactly the mutinous type. Married to duty, aren't you?"

Married. Interesting turn of phrase. It took a moment for her implication to sink in. And before he could say anything she cleared her throat and looked away.

"It's a compliment. I meant it as a compliment."

"Thank you, then."

"What happened next?"

"Well, Varric is alive and well, so you know I didn't kill him." He offered her a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "I won't say it wasn't tempting."

To his relief, she laughed. It was a little stiff, and rang a little false, but it cleared the air nonetheless. "And the rebel leader?"

"Regrettably also alive and well. Probably with Hawke somewhere. Cassandra tried to find them, before the conclave. She wanted Hawke to lead the Inquisition. That's how I ended up here, actually. She recruited me in Kirkwall."

Now was when he should tell her about the lyrium. Bring it up casually. They were friends, weren't they? Friends or something like it. She should know about this thing that he was facing, this dogged monster that nagged at his every waking moment, that threatened his sanity. She should know how frightened he was of it, of himself, of the future.

She was still looking at him, as if sensing he had more to say. She'd freed a hand from the blanket now and was absently playing with her hair. It was almost dry, frizzing in parts. She looked like an old painting.

He couldn't bring himself to tell her.

She already thought him prudish, paranoid, did he really want to add weak and falling apart to that list?

The door flew open and the chance was lost.

* * *

Cullen leapt up, the chair skidding aside, his hand reaching for his weapon.

Oblivious, Cassandra bounded into the room. "I heard what happened, are you all right?"

Solana was on her feet, clutching the blanket even tighter than she had been, heart in her throat. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

"The maleficar turned herself in," Cassandra said, without preamble.

"The what?" Cullen still had his hand on his weapon.

 _Oh shit._

"Turned herself in? For what? She dropped water on me. What did you accuse her of?"

Cullen cut in before Cassandra could say anything. "That girl was a blood mage? You _knew_?"

"Yes, but what happened earlier had nothing to do with blood magic. Let me speak to her."

Cullen stood in stunned silence while Solana pulled on her boots. The blanket falling aside was now the least of her worries, and she imagined Cullen's as well.

"You can't possibly go out like that," Cassandra admonished. "Surely Max has something more practical for you to wear?"

She moved to the dresser and started digging. _Max_ , first name basis. That was interesting. Cassandra still hadn't stopped calling _her_ Hero, despite her insisting multiple times that that wasn't even a good title, let alone a name.

"Here," Cassandra thrust some breeches and a riding jacket into Solana's arms.

Cullen was still standing silently in the centre of the room. Solana risked a glance at him. His face was thunder.

At her look, he turned and left.


	9. They shall be named Maleficar

Solana ignored the strange looks as she marched with Cassandra to the Chantry, drowning in the Herald's spare clothes. She had no doubt that by morning there'd be some fantastical story doing the rounds explaining it.

There was no sign of Cullen.

Solana had thought it merciful that Cassandra had interned Celeste in the Chantry until she'd learned that's where the cells were.

"I can't believe you locked her up."

"She's a self-professed maleficar. It's a wonder we didn't have her killed."

"That's Inquisition policy, is it? Kill blood mages on sight?"

"She still breathes, does she not?"

"That remains to be seen."

The guards let her pass without argument, most likely because she was with the Seeker. The cells were dank, smelling of mildew and old stone. They were dark too, full of tall shadows that moved unpredictably in the flickering light from the wall-mounted sconces. What was a Chantry doing with a dungeon?

Solana didn't even want to know.

She found Celeste in the very last cell, under the watchful eye of no less than three guards. The woman was kneeling with her back to them, staring at her hands.

"Let me in, I want to speak to her."

The guards looked at one another, then to Cassandra.

"She can hear you from here," Cassandra said.

"I'm not interrogating her. Open the cell."

Alistair had commented more than once that Solana's willpower was possibly the sole reason they'd survived as long as they had. Cassandra tried to stare her down, and failed. She sighed deeply and nodded to one of the guards to open. Solana didn't give them a chance to change their minds, slipping in as soon as the opening was wide enough.

"Celeste." She kept her voice soft as she settled down opposite the woman.

The mage gave no indication that she'd heard.

"What is this? Who made you do this?"

"Made me…" her voice was thin and whispy. "No one made me." Finally she rose her eyes to meet Solana's. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"This is my fault. I should have taken the time to reassure you. Look, I'm fine. I'm not hurt."

"But you could have been. He was right, I can't control my power."

"He?" Solana thought she was talking about Cullen at first, but the way her eyes darted back to her hands hinted that she was talking about an entirely different Templar.

"He used to say it all the time. 'Your magic's too big for you, little mage. You think you're so powerful'. It's what… it's what drew him to me. He kept saying that I was dangerous, that I needed him… watching, always watching." Her hands closed into fists and she fell silent.

"The purpose of our exercise today was to _learn_ how to channel power. You weren't the only one who struggled."

"It's not just today." Celeste pressed her eyes closed. "The last time I… it was that day, at the Tower. So much blood."

Solana tried to work out what she was saying. "Surely you've used magic since then?"

"No."

"But you were part of the rebellion?"

Celeste swallowed. "When you let me go, I went to the Chantry. Like I told you I would. But they turned me away."

A movement caught Solana's eye over Celeste's shoulder. She glanced up. Cullen was standing at the cell door beside Cassandra. His face was half hidden in shadow and he looked so ominous that he stopped her breath. She didn't know how much he'd heard, but from his expression she was certain he'd heard enough. Solana had freed one of the blood mages from the tower where he'd been tortured. Not only that, but she'd known the mage was now in the Inquisition and had said nothing.

Celeste must have seen her expression change, because she looked back too. The reaction was electric. She was instantly on her feet, scuttling as far away from Cullen as she could, which in this case meant pressing herself into one of the cell's corners.

"Please don't…" Her eyes were wide, her breathing rugged.

"The Commander's not going to hurt you," Solana assured her. She couldn't be blamed for thinking that, with the way he was looking at her – the way he was looking at them both.

"Surely you are aware of the consequences," Cassandra said. "You must have been aware when you turned yourself in."

"You're not going to kill her." It wasn't even a question.

"No, but there are other options that the Chantry provides for this kind of situation."

Solana stood. "You're not making her Tranquil either."

"If she poses a threat – "

" – she doesn't."

"So you say, but she herself begs to differ. She's openly admits to being unable to control her abilities."

"Because she's never been properly trained to."

"It is not our duty to train every maleficar and apostate that wanders into our camp!"

"So you'd rather castrate us?"

Cassandra slammed a hand against the bars, sending a clanging echo bouncing along the dark stone walls. "That's not what I'm saying."

Solana ran her hands through her hair. Cullen was still looking at her as if she was the precise thing he'd taken vows to eliminate from all of Thedas. It was difficult to think. Her chest felt cold and hollow.

"You weren't there today, Cassandra. You didn't see her. What she's capable of. She could be one of your best resources."

"If she doesn't kill us all first." Cullen's words were like ice. They were clipped and hard with barely-contained rage.

"Does she look like a murderer to you?"

Celeste had sunk against the wall and had wrapped her arms over her head, no doubt trying to hide from their bickering.

Cullen's eyes met Solana's. "People can surprise you."

He may as well have physically struck her for the impact of those words. She stared back at him, stunned. Everything she'd had to say in Celeste's defense was driven from her mind. Cullen turned away from her, away from her look.

"I'll be upstairs if you need me." Quiet words to Cassandra.

As he moved into the shadows, Cassandra called after him. "Commander. You aren't going to – "

"I… require some air."

Cassandra turned her attention back to Solana. "We cannot simply let her roam free having confessed what she has."

"Why not?"

"Surely you see? It would set a precedent."

"Of course, the last thing you want is blood mages coming and confessing to you."

"You're being purposefully obtuse."

"And you're being unreasonable."

Cassandra gave a cry of frustration and paced away from the cell door. Solana took a deep breath. This wasn't getting them anywhere.

She went up to the bars. "Leave me here." She dropped her voice so only Cassandra and the guards could hear. "I'll find out what's really going on. If she's involved in some kind of plot, or has done more than I know of, I promise I'll tell you."

"What do you mean? You can't be saying I should leave you here alone with her?" Cassandra shook her head vigorously. "No. It's too dangerous."

"I _am_ the Hero of Ferelden."

She never thought she'd use those words, but let them believe her some kind of marvel if it meant that they'd let her speak to Celeste in private.

Cassandra eyed her carefully.

"What, you think I can stop the Blight but not a single blood mage? I'll be fine, Seeker."

"Fine." She sighed again. "I can give you an hour. If you need help, shout. Someone should hear you."

"Thank you."

Solana waited until they were completely alone before joining Celeste with her back against the wall. They sat in silence for a time. Solana was hoping that Celeste would start speaking again of her own accord, but no such like.

"Tell me about your son?" she asked eventually. Surely that would bring her out of herself, if anything?

Celeste drew a trembling breath. "I planted a tree for him."

Alright, maybe she wasn't so sane after all.

Celeste raised her head. "When I left Denerim to join the rebel mages, I mean. I planted an apple tree behind my sister's house. I said to him 'look after the tree while I'm gone, speak to it and take comfort in it as if it were me. When I return I expect to find it tall and strong, like you.'"

"That's a sweet idea."

"I didn't know if I would be back. I wanted him to have something to remember me by. But I have no possessions, no heirlooms or anything like that… please don't let them make me tranquil. I'd rather not return at all than… than he have his mother but not her… not her love."

Solana wondered what she'd expected would happen when she approached Cassandra. "Why did you turn yourself in?"

"I told you. I can't… every time I touch the Fade..."

Solana narrowed her eyes. She tried to keep her voice casual, but failed. "Do you mean demons, demons tempt you because of your power?"

Celeste shook her head. "No, it's not like that. I promise. I would never bargain with demons."

"I'm still not sure I understand." She shifted around to face the woman. "You haven't used magic since I found you in Kinloch Hold?"

"I… I've used a staff. I don't like to, but I have a few times."

"But you joined the mage rebellion?"

"Yes, I… ten years ago, I made a promise to you. I said I would do something good with my life if you spared it. But I hadn't. When the Chantry turned me away, I tried to get out of Ferelden with the other refugees, but they'd closed the borders. I didn't want to go home, I didn't want to put my family in danger. That was the first place the Templars would look for me. But eventually I had no choice. I was heavily pregnant, living off scraps, and with the Blight… I went to my sister's house. She accepted me without question. I gave birth while the city burned. After the Blight, the Templars had more to worry about than finding me. I changed my hair, we told everyone that I was a cousin, a refugee from Lothering. I had been at the Circle so long that no one recognised my face. I was safe… but when I heard the mages were rebelling, that they were fighting to eliminate the Circles, I knew I had to join them. It wasn't so much a choice as a duty. I… after everything I went through, how could I not join fight to save others from the same fate? I heard the mages had their base in Redcliffe, so I traveled there and offered my services."

She rubbed her arms as if cold. "They were curious about my background and training. I told them the truth – that I was trained at the Ferelden Circle. I didn't expect that they'd treat me as some kind of hero. I'd fought against the Templars and lived. They assumed I had great ability, I never had to prove it. We battled in groups when battle was necessary, and I could always stay in the background with my staff. But mostly, I tried to help in other ways. I cooked, I sewed blankets I… I didn't have to use my magic. I didn't expect I would ever have to."

Well no wonder she was so petrified of her powers. The last time she'd used them, she'd killed a man and all of her friends had become abominations. Losing control at the lake must have taken her straight back there.

"He was wrong, you're not too small for your magic."

Celeste eyed her skeptically.

"Look at me, I'm not exactly a giant. You have a chance now to do the good you promised. You're going to fight for the Inquisition. You're going to heal the sky."

 _And maybe save the Grey Wardens_ , Solana added silently.

* * *

Cullen wasn't at the lake the next morning. Instead there was another Templar who introduced himself as Frederick.

Solana's chest ached even though she knew she should have expected no less. She'd betrayed him. At least that's how he'd see it.

There was nothing wrong with Frederick. He was attentive and polite. But she missed Cullen. She missed him far more than she had a right to.


	10. Unquenchable flame

Spoiler warning: Inquisition - In Your Hearts Shall Burn mission. Also, disclaimer, I don't own a bunch of the dialogue from that mission that I have used here.

* * *

He was angry but he wasn't about to let her get herself killed.

Cullen watched from the shadows as Solana greeted the guards and gave them each one of the bread rolls from the basket she carried over her arm. The rest were for the malificar, he knew.

The War Council had been unable to agree on a course of action for the blood mage. The only thing they _had_ been able to agree on, eventually, was that it could be the Herald's decision. She was to remain in the cells at the Chantry until he returned.

For the past few days, he'd seen Solana perform the same routine. After she finished with the mages at the lake, she'd come here and have the guards let her into the woman's cell. There she'd sit with her, sharing the food. Then they'd perform magic. The guards would eye them warily but Solana would lightly tease them if they looked too nervous. She was the Hero, she'd remind them. They were in no danger.

She did exercises with the malificar like she'd done with the other mages. She'd devised a series of games – making the bread float or similar nonsense - and used those to test her ability. At first the woman had been a trembling mess, but now she seemed far more relaxed. She even smiled a few times and when Solana returned her smile, Cullen's heart twisted with longing.

Footsteps rang on the stairs behind him and he tensed, shifting further into the darkened guard alcove and hoping the new arrival didn't draw attention to his presence.

"Commander?"

He cringed. Cassandra. Someone must have told her he was down here. She stood at the foot of the stairs. She didn't see him immediately and he briefly considered pretending he wasn't there. Especially when he heard Solana informing her that he wasn't.

 _Childish. That would be childish._

He sighed and stepped forward into the light. He intentionally didn't look at the mages, he could only imagine their horror that he'd been spying.

"Ah!" Cassandra seemed completely oblivious to his discomfort. "There you are. Ma- the Herald approaches Haven. He sent word that he's prepared to seal the Breach immediately, tonight if we can be ready."

"Can we be ready?" He asked Solana, still without looking at her.

"Yes. I believe the mages are prepared."

"I'll tell the men." He turned to move past Cassandra, back up the stairs, but she stepped into his path.

"We're meeting in the war room."

"Of course we are."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is something the matter, Commander?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, he could feel a headache coming on. "No, nothing's the matter."

The way Cassandra's gaze lingered said that she didn't believe him. Perhaps she sensed how close he was to giving in to his cravings? There was going to be an army of untested mages in the ruins of the temple tonight. He owed it to everyone to be in the best possible shape, to prepare for the worst. Didn't that mean using lyrium?

"I should join you," Solana said. Something jolted in his chest.

"Of course, we welcome your input," Cassandra replied.

Well, this wouldn't be awkward at all. He heard the cell clang shut, the quiet goodbyes to the maleficar and the guards and then she was beside him. He still didn't look at her, even as the three of them moved upstairs. But he could feel her presence, it made his skin tingle like rampant magic. It made his heart thud and brought a bitter taste to his throat. He shouldn't be this affected.

Josephine was waiting for them at the door to the war room. She and Cassandra exchanged a few words before going inside. Cullen made to follow, but Solana caught his arm.

He was forced, finally, to look at her. Her brow was furrowed in concern, her beautiful eyes were focused on his face.

He flushed cold and then hot. His stomach clenched as if he was about to go into battle. He hadn't wanted confrontation. He'd been avoiding it for a week. But now she'd caught him watching, it was inevitable.

"Cullen…"

Oh Maker, did she have to say his name? Say it like that?

"Now isn't the time," he said stiffly.

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you been watching? Just today or…?

"Not just today, no."

"You don't trust her."

"Of course I don't –" He dropped his voice, aware that they were hardly alone. The hall was always full of people going about some or other business. "Of course, I don't trust her. Do you have any idea –"He closed his eyes. "You saw what they did to me. Why in all of Thedas would you think I would trust her?"

"She wasn't involved with what happened to you."

"How can you _know_ that?"

"I asked her."

A bark of laughter escaped his lips. "Yes, of course, blood mages are known for their honesty."

"Do you really think I would have kept quiet about her if I thought she'd hurt you?"

She spoke softly but her words seemed to echo. Cullen found himself staring at her. Not ' hurt _us'_ , 'hurt _you'_. Him specifically. He was at once intensely aware of her hand, still on his arm.

Her gaze dropped. "Look, you don't have to like me, but I'd appreciate if we could at least work together. I understand you freezing me out. I know what this must look like to you, but you're not the only one who wants to keep everyone here safe."

"Sometimes it does feel like it."

Her eyes met his again. "What would you have done if I'd told you about her? Locked her up? Chased her away? Made her tranquil? Killed her?"

"No." He said quickly.

"No to which part?"

"The…" he swallowed. "The last part. That's not… that's not how I am, Solana. You should know that."

She blinked and her gaze softened. "I do know that," she said quietly. "But I also know how you feel about duty. And I know what you… Cullen, it haunts me, what they did in that Tower, how I found you… I can't imagine what it must be like."

He pulled away from her. She pitied him. He didn't want that. "You think my experiences made me unreasonable."

"Didn't they?"

He was drawing breath to respond, to say he wished he hadn't opened up to her, he hadn't confided to her about Kirkwall and how far he'd let things get before he'd taken action, but the main doors of the hall swung open and the Herald walked in, clad in his shining armour. His helmet was tucked under his arm, his hair was dishevelled, but he still looked like something out of legend. He grinned at them and clattered forward.

"Solana! I hear I have you to thank for readying the mages for the task ahead."

"You can thank me if you don't die."

Cullen stiffened at her words, but the Herald laughed and patted her shoulder. Then he took Cullen's hand and shook it. "Oh, I'm certain Cullen here will ensure I survive. Are we meeting now?" He moved into the room without preamble, and Cullen could hear him warmly greeting the others.

"We should…" he said to Solana.

She nodded. "After you, Commander."

* * *

Sounds of laughter and singing permeated the air and Cullen had to admit that it was pleasant.

He also had to admit that Solana's mages had been impressive. Not a single one had faltered. The change in the days since he'd last seen them was staggering.

She'd trained an army in less than a fortnight.

And she said she didn't deserve the moniker Hero of Ferelden.

He thought he should thank her, try clear the air after their argument earlier. But by the time he'd gathered up enough courage to try to find her, she'd disappeared. He expected she'd be with Leliana, but the spymaster was talking to Josephine down by the gates. Solana wasn't with the Herald, or Cassandra or with the mages. Had she gone back to her cottage? Another thought occurred to him and it filled him with dread. What if she'd left, feeling her duty done?

No, no she wouldn't have done that. She came here for help with the Wardens. She wouldn't simply leave.

Unless he'd driven her away?

He ran through the things he'd said to her. None of them seemed harsh enough in his memory to have that affect. But perhaps he'd come across as harsher than he'd intended?

"You're looking for The Hero?" Varric asked. Cullen jolted. The dwarf was holding a flagon in one hand and his cheeks were rosy. "I heard you asking the Seeker. I saw her go into the Chantry. You might have luck there."

The Chantry. Of course. "Thank you."

"Commander!"

He spun to find one of his men, bent double, heaving in air. "There's… there's a force approaching."

* * *

"I wasn't any help after all."

"Don't say that." Solana passed Celeste the bundle of food she'd taken from the festivities.

"It's true, though. I was supposed to help mend the sky."

"It's hardly your fault that they wouldn't let you go."

"Well, technically it is. I _did_ turn myself in."

Solana sighed. "The Breach was only one of the things the Inquisition needs to fix. You'll get your chance."

"If they don't make me tranquil… I'm sorry. Thank you. Thank you for the food and for everything else. It seems you keep saving me." She offered Solana a smile that didn't quite reach the eyes. "I'm sure you want to get back upstairs."

They could hear vague whispers of song from where they sat. Solana shook her head. "I've never been one for crowds. Even before… well before the Blight." She meant before her self-imposed isolation. "It's difficult to know what to do with yourself. I'm never sure where to stand."

Celeste chuckled, taking a piece of roast ram from the food pack. "I usually choose somewhere at the edge. That way you can see everything but no one watches you." She glanced up. "They did it to us intentionally, you realise? They _made_ us socially inept. They never wanted us to be able to function outside of the Tower. You were there from a young age too?"

"Yes." She'd been a few years ahead of Celeste. They'd lived on different floors, their paths had never crossed. She helped herself to a small slice of baked apple.

"Do you ever miss it?" Celeste asked.

An interesting question from someone who had fought so hard to leave. "I miss… I miss life being that easy. But I doubt I could go back."

Celeste seemed about to say something, but there was shouting from upstairs, an urgent distressed sound quite different from the merrymaking they'd heard before.

The guards, who'd been playing cards at a small table across from the cell, come to their feet, the one reaching for a weapon.

"I'll go find out what's happening," Solana said.

* * *

The main hall was a mess of frantic chaos. People were running around, shouting instructions, panicking. Solana managed to snag an Inquisition recruit by the sleeve.

"What's going on?"

He was red-faced with eyes wide. "There's an army," he spluttered. "Army attacking us."

"What army?"

But he tore away.

She pushed through the disarray to the large doors, which were hanging open. There she could hear the sounds of battle, and the mountain before her was flecked with the light of advancing soldiers. Whatever army was attacking, it was huge. The last time she'd seen anything like it had been at Ostagar and the memory chilled her to her core.

Haven couldn't survive that. There was no possibility.

She stood rooted in horror, until someone pushed her aside.

One of the trebuchets fired. Not at the army, but at the mountain. She watched in awe as an avalanche of snow buried the first advance.

 _Brilliant thinking._

Time. That's all they needed. Time to get everyone out.

That spurred her to action. She dashed forward, pulse racing. She needed to find Cassandra or Max or Josephine – or Cullen. See how she could help.

An all-too-familiar screech rent the night. Before she could accept what it was, a swath of flame cut in front of her. She leapt back, landing in the snow, staring up at the sky, at the _thing_. She knew it instantly.

An archdemon.

This _was_ a Blight.

This was a blight and the Wardens were too distracted to do anything about it. She reached for her staff and traced the movement of the beast in the sky, how it circled back towards the army.

There was a reason she'd survived. There was a reason that she had lived while Alistair had perished. _This_ was the reason.

She scrambled to her feet and made for the front gates, passing soldiers and mages fighting side-by-side, facing off against unfamiliar abominations. She was so blinded by her desperation to get to the creature that she didn't see Cullen until he grabbed her bodily.

"Where in the world do you think you're going?"

How was that even a question?

"I'm a Warden." He was pinning her arms to her sides. "I need to-"

"What you need to do is get to the Chantry with everyone else."

The archdemon screeched again and swooped around. Cullen flung her against the palisade as flame tore through the spot where they'd been standing. She cast a barrier, and the fire licked the edges, narrowly missing Cullen's back.

A few days before, she would have given anything to be pressed this close to him, but now all she wanted was to fulfil her destiny.

"I need to fight it."

He was breathing heavily, peering down at her. "No." He grabbed her arm and yanked her beside him as he marched to the Chantry. Everything was burning, smoke choked her lungs and made her eyes water. There was no use struggling against Cullen, his grip was iron.

He pushed her inside. "Frederick, watch her! She is not to leave."

The young Templar who'd been overseeing her mage lessons gave her an apologetic smile with a shrug, which she answered with a scowl. Cullen strode deeper into the room to where Leliana and Josephine were locked in urgent debate.

The doors flew open to another rush of people seeking shelter. The Grand Chancellor urged them in. Solana noticed he was clutching his side. As Max, Cassandra and Varric entered, the old man collapsed.

She started towards him, but suddenly there was someone with him. A strangely pale boy in an over-sized hat.

"He tried to stop a Templar. The Blade went deep. He's going to die," the boy informed Max.

She blinked. Perhaps he had been there before and she somehow hadn't noticed him?

Cullen jogged up to Max. "Herald, our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."

"Archdemon," Solana corrected. All four of them looked at her. "That looked like an archdemon to me."

"I don't care what it looked like," Cullen retorted. "It's cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven."

She could see the fear in his eyes. His body was stiff but she knew him well enough to recognise that he was terrified. His forehead was damp with sweat, his fists kept clenching and unclenching.

The boy gazed at him, face half hidden in shadow. "The Elder One doesn't care about the village. He only wants the Herald."

"Elder one?" Solana prompted. Did he mean the archdemon? They were wakened elder gods.

But Max spoke over her. "If it will save these people, he can have me."

"It won't," the boy assured him. "He wants to kill you. No one else matters. But he'll crush them, kill them anyway. I don't like him."

"You don't like..." Cullen sighed as if deciding it wasn't worth pursuing. "Herald. There are no tactics to make this survivable."

 _Wait what?_ That wasn't like him, to give up so easily.

He was still speaking. "The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide."

 _And kill everyone..._

Max spoke before she could. "We're overrun. To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven."

Cullen met his gaze. "We're dying." He said it with such finality, he sounded so calm. "But we can decide how. Many don't get that choice."

"Then I'm dying killing the archdemon." She took her staff in hand again for emphasis.

Cullen's eyes darted to her. "No," he snapped.

"You just acknowledged we're going to die here. Let me help."

He turned his full attention on her. "You honestly believe you can fight an archdemon, alone?"

He wasn't the only one staring. Half the people in the room were now looking at her.

"No," she admitted. "But I can _kill_ it alone. With the archdemon gone you might stand a chance. If the Inquisition can but help me get close-"

"And what of the Red Templars? This Elder one?"

Her expression must have betrayed her because he threw his hands in the air and advanced on her. "You don't even know who we're fighting."

"It doesn't matter. I've fought worse."

"Awfully certain of yourself aren't you?"

"Stop!" the pale boy was suddenly between them. "There is a way. Listen." He pointed to Chancellor Roderick..

The old man struggled to his feet, wavering unsteadily. "There is a path, you wouldn't know it, unless you've made the summer pilgrimage as I have. The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could tell you."

 _Yes!_ This whole mountain had been covered in hidden tunnels when she'd last been here.

"What about it Cullen, will it work?" Max asked.

She saw a flicker of hope cross his features. He nodded. "Possibly. If he shows us the path." And then his expression was perfectly controlled again. "But what of your escape?"

Max was silent. Cullen's brow furrowed. There would be no escape for the Herald.

"Let me go with him," Solana insisted again.

Cullen closed his eyes as if praying for patience. "I can't let you do that."

"I know I'm a valuable resource, I know you don't want to lose that. But what makes me more precious than Max?"

"Hold on a minute," Max cut in. "The Elder One wants me, not you. The Inquisition needs a hero."

"No, the Inquisition needs to survive."

"We're wasting valuable time," Cullen said. "Solana, if you're so anxious to help, you can help with the evacuation. Inquisition, follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry. Move."

Solana growled in frustration. Enough of this. The Inquisition soldiers were running across the hall, stuffing crates, chests and barrels with any resources they could find. Solana turned to join them as if she was following Cullen's orders, but when no one was looking she slipped down to the jail. One of the guards was still keeping watch over Celeste.

"Commander says to free her, we're evacuating."

He didn't even question her. Celeste stood as her cage clanged open. "Evacuating? What's going on?"

"I don't know. It looks like another Blight."

"Another-"

"There's an archdemon."

Her hand flew to her mouth.

"You wanted to help, to make a difference. Now's your chance. I'm going to fight that thing. I'm going to need your help."


	11. Few against the wind

"Where's Solana? Did she go ahead?" Cullen was ushering the last of the Inquisition into the tunnel Chancellor Roderick had indicated.

"I don't know, sir," the young recruit said.

Cullen bade him pass. He spotted Frederick, carrying a large trunk on his shoulders. "Where's the Hero?"

He blanched. "I think she's gone ahead, sir."

"You think?"

"Sorry sir, I'm not sure."

"I thought I told you to watch her!"

A man moved passed them, carrying a barrel under each arm. Cullen recognised him as one of the burly guards who'd been keeping an eye on the malificar.

"You! Where's your prisoner?"

He stared at Cullen as if he'd just materialised through the Fade. "We, er, let her go, Ser. Like you said."

"I gave no such order."

"The Hero said you did, Ser."

Cullen pushed passed Frederick, cursing like he was sure his men had never heard him curse before. "Tell Leliana to send the signal as soon as you reach the treeline. Don't wait for me."

How had she gotten out? They had barricaded themselves inside.

Except she was a mage. For all he knew she'd slipped out when the Herald had gone, using some kind of spell to confound their senses. He checked the Chantry anyway, calling her name madly. It bounced off the walls, echoing in the eerie old building. Nothing. She'd gone. And she'd taken the blood mage with her.

He crashed through the main doors. He could see the lights of battle out front, the final fight to secure the last trebuchet. She must be there, with the Herald. His stomach turned to liquid as he saw the dragon. It dove to land at the point of conflict. Cullen's knees were weak, his legs felt numb but he drove himself forward, cutting aside every Red Templar that got in his way. If there was a chance, even the smallest chance that he could save her…

The town was over-run, ash fell from the sky like snow.

He heard a scream to his right. And he knew he shouldn't stop. He knew he couldn't possibly save everyone. Solana was what mattered. She needed him. She was going to go up against a dragon with no help but that blood mage.

He turned, feet skidding on the icy ground. He couldn't simply ignore a cry for help. Not when he was in a position to do something.

He followed the sound around a corner and stopped so suddenly his feet almost slid out from under him.

There she was. Solana. Trying to face down three of the Red Templars.

The maleficar was lying prone on the ground behind her, pinned by a burning beam. Solana's spells kept failing and her movements were desperate.

It took one moment to take in the scene, and then Cullen was pushing in front of her, putting himself between her and the Templars.

He raised his sword just in time to block a blow that likely would have cleaved her. He parried, stabbing forward to get the twisted monstrosity in the ribs. It cried an inhuman sound, doubling over.

Cullen dodged a blow coming from the other side, spinning, skidding again, almost falling. Metal clanged against metal as his sword met the third Templar's. He was hopelessly outnumbered but it didn't matter. They'd have to cut him to pieces before he let them get to her. A strike from the misshapen horror narrowly missed him, but he rallied, swinging his weapon with every bit of strength he had in him, cutting the thing across the neck. It stumbled backwards and a swift kick to the chest finished the job.

Fire exploded around him and for a horrible second he thought it the dragon. But no, now the red lyrium monster was downed, they could no longer suppress Solana's magic.

Cullen heaved in air as the remaining Templars screamed in agony. He finished the one with a blow to the head. Solana took care of the other with a bolt of lighting.

As it crumpled, he turned on her, ready to loose his anger upon her. But she was hurrying to her friend, dropping to her knees beside her.

"I can't get it…" the maleficar said.

Solana put her hands out, and he knew she was trying to lift the beam with magic, as she had lifted the water. To no avail. "We'll try together. On three."

He could see the strain in her. There wasn't time. He strode forward and, before he could think better of it, grabbed hold of the beam, lending his strength to their spells. He cried out as the pain engulfed his hands, but the beam shifted. He heaved and it lifted just enough for her to wriggle herself free.

"Cullen!" Solana was immediately at his side, grabbing at his hands. They were in such blinding pain that he couldn't even feel her touch.

"There's no time." He snatched his hands away from her.

"I have to –" she turned towards where the dragon had landed.

As she did, the trebuchet launched its load into the air. It flew towards the mountain. Cullen swore and grabbed Solana, sending a fresh shock of pain lancing up his arm.

"We need to run."

The maleficar was struggling to her feet, but she'd seen the trebuchet fire. Her eyes were wide and her face was pale. A mighty crack rent the air. The siege engine had its desired effect.

Solana took Celeste's arm and the three of them ran blindly. It was impossible to outrun an avalanche, but they threw themselves forward. They need only get to the Chantry. If they could even make it down one level they might survive.

They hadn't even made it to the Chantry steps when the snow hit, ploughing through the palisade, smothering the buildings. Cullen saw the wave heading towards them and could do absolutely nothing to stop it before everything went dark.

It was dark, but he was still standing, surrounded by the sound of his own ragged breathing.

He hadn't been hit by snow.

 _What the…_

He looked around, but could see nothing. Something shifted beside him.

"I can't… I can't hold it much longer." The maleficar.

"It's all right." Solana's voice nearby. "We need to dig ourselves out. Cullen, dig upwards."

He obeyed her, reaching up to scratch at the snow with his burning hands. The pain of contact was soon numbed by the cold. Solana was standing beside him, stabbing at the snowy ceiling with her staff.

"Solana…" Celeste squeaked.

"Just hold it a little longer." Solana pressed against him. "Can you lift me?"

He wrapped his arms around her waist. If he was about to die, there were worse ways to go. She leveraged herself up on his shoulders. There was a flash of light, and then another. He realised what she was trying to do. She was trying to melt the snow with her staff. He lifted her higher and she gave a whoop of victory as the final layer of snow melted away. Then, without warning, she was climbing onto his shoulders, scrambling out of their hole.

"Lift your hands, both of you."

Again, Cullen did as instructed. The maleficar – Celeste – gasped and the snow rushed in.

There was a moment of suffocating cold. The snow was everywhere, crushing his lungs, covering his face. And then Solana had his hand. She clasped him by the wrist, and pulled. He began struggling against the snow, wriggling, then climbing. His face broke free, then his shoulders, As soon as both of his arms were out of the snow, Solana turned from him.

"Help me."

She was digging, looking for the mage. Cullen fought himself free of the ice and then joined her. There. First one hand, then the other. Together they pulled and Celeste emerged, gasping and choking and then laughing. She fell back into the snow, staring at the sky as if the most delightful event had just occurred and she hadn't very nearly been burned and then buried alive.

"So, tell me again how your magic's too big for you," Solana said. He saw she was also smiling.

Now they were relatively safe, Cullen looked around him. There was almost nothing to mark that Haven had once been here. Occasionally a roof peaked out of the snow, but otherwise everything was blanketed in white.

"It would seem I owe you my life," Cullen admitted.

"What were you even doing out here?" Solana asked, turning her attention to him. Her hair was damp, her cheeks were flushed. He knew he should be angry, but he was so relieved she was alive, he couldn't summon the rage he'd felt earlier.

"I came looking for you," he said truthfully.

Solana looked away. "I didn't think you'd notice I was gone."

"Well, I did."

Of course he did. He was always aware of her.

The Chantry rose above them. Due to its superior altitude, it hadn't been buried like the other buildings. They'd probably need to go in a window rather than the door, but otherwise the way ahead seemed clear.

* * *

"I owe you an apology," Solana said.

They'd finally reached the Inquisition camp and she had convinced Cullen to sit by the fire while she examined his hands. The leather from his gloves had partly fused to them. This was a nasty injury. If she'd been an accomplished healer like Wynne, she might have been able to use magic to ease his pain. As it was, she was pressing snow into his palms, trying to numb them before she separated leather from flesh.

"Yes you do," he agreed. But when she glanced up at him, he was giving her that half smile that made her stomach flip.

She returned her attention to his hands. "I'm not… accustomed to following orders."

"No, I imagine you aren't."

"I wasn't being rational."

"No, you weren't."

"You're not making this easy."

He chuckled. "For what it's worth, I acknowledge I was not being entirely rational either. If I had been thinking strategically, it would have made sense for you to go along with the Herald."

The Herald had not made it back to the camp, but no one had expected him to. Perhaps if she'd been with him, things would have been different? She'd liked Max. She hadn't known him very well, but he'd seemed decent.

"I assumed you were always thinking strategically."

"Most of the time."

"So what was different this time?" She expected him to say something about the heat of the moment, about imminent death. When he didn't answer immediately she looked up to find him staring at her. Warm brown eyes, their focus absolute.

"I…" his voice was low, so low she could hardly hear it. "I didn't want to lose you again."

Her heart thudded to a stop, then kicked back into action with renewed fervour.

"Lose me?"

"I…" he looked away from her and he seemed to be looking anywhere but at her. "I meant that in the sense that… I consider you a friend."

 _A friend._

* * *

Oh, Maker he couldn't breathe; caught between the pain in his hands and the intensity of her look. Why couldn't he get the words out? It should be obvious that he cared for her. He'd tipped his hand when he'd run blindly into the trajectory of an avalanche on the off chance he could save her.

But her surprise when he'd said he was frightened of losing her had stopped his tongue once again. She didn't want his confessions. She didn't want his feelings. She was still in love with someone else, even if he was ten years dead. Leliana had said as much, and didn't female friends share everything? Maybe she had said something to Leliana, asked the spymaster to subtly dissuade him.

Friends was safer. It wasn't what he wanted, but it was something.

"You consider me a friend?" she asked, eyes still exploring his face. "Even after…"

She looked across the fire to where Celeste was bundled up in a blanket and talking to some of the other mages.

He closed his eyes it was easier to speak when he couldn't see her face. "I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me." He drew a breath. "But I understand why you did not."

 _I don't like it,_ he added silently. _But I do understand._

He'd wanted to kill Celeste once. Back at the Circle, he _would_ have killed her if he'd had the chance. He would always be that man to Solana, at least on some level.

"I don't like thinking about those days. I don't like thinking about who I was, what I became," he said.

Something soft and cold brushed his cheek. His eyes flew open. Her hand. She'd stroked his cheek. His brain froze. He couldn't think. A thousand different sensations came together like the clash of symbols in his mind. His heart slamming against his chest, his stomach lurching, his breath catching. Everything was hyper real and focused as if she'd stabbed him rather than caressed him.

She withdrew the hand, a look of horror on her face. She thought she'd made a mistake. She'd taken his stunned silence for disapproval. No, no that's not what he'd meant. He jerked forward, his limbs refusing to move in any natural way, and he grabbed the offending hand, halting its withdrawal.

He'd forgotten about the burns. Excruciating pain shot up his arm. Blinding white agony. He cried out, clutching his hand to his chest.

"Sorry, sorry I'm sorry." She took his hands and pressed snow into them again. "That was foolish, I shouldn't have."

"No." The ice burn of the snow was almost as bad as grabbing her hand had been. He wanted to tell her not to apologise but he couldn't unclench his teeth long enough to speak.

"This is bad, Cullen. I'm going to get Fiona. She'll be better able to help."

No! He wanted to stop her. He wanted her to explain what that touch had meant. Or, even better, continue. He didn't know whether he was deserving of such comfort, but he wanted it. Oh, he wanted it. But Solana slipped away, hurrying across the camp to where the Grand Enchanter was tending to the other wounded.

Cullen took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. He gazed out at the icy landscape beyond their meager shelter. They'd nestled in a ravine at the foot of one of the peaks, and back the way they'd come, he could make out the dark silhouettes of the trees against the grey sky.

He could explain to her later. When she returned, when the pain had ebbed further. When…

Something moved in the darkness at the edge of the ravine. He got to his feet automatically, squinting to try work out what it could be. A wolf? Their cry had been echoing off the stone, but no wolf would dare approach their camp alone. What then?

And then he realised. He stumbled forward.

"There! It's him!" The Herald.

By the Maker, the Herald had made it out alive.

Cassandra sprung from her place by the fire and joined him, running towards the faltering figure of Maxwell Trevelyan.


	12. Greater than mountains

He was chained in the middle of a burning circle, Uldred looming before him and Solana couldn't reach him. Every time she tried, the fire blocked her path.

"Let's see how strong you Templars really are. In your hubris, you thought you could suppress us. Us!"

A crack of a whip, made of magic and glass. It lashed across his back and he cried out, jerking as pain rent his body.

There had to be a way through! Solana remembered this trick. She'd faced it before. She'd almost perished trying to find a way to cross a similar fiery threshold. Why couldn't she recall what the solution had been?

Again the whip landed and again Cullen screamed, a sickening wretched sound. A man so strong, reduced to tears, pleading for mercy.

There was nothing for it. She needed to help him. She closed her eyes and pushed through the fire. It scorched her skin, seared across her nerve endings. She ceased existing. Her whole being was pain and his screaming and the smell of burning flesh.

She jerked awake with his name on her lips.

Her chest heaved, her back was damp with cold sweat.

Solana was no stranger to nightmares. They'd plagued her since the day she'd taken the Joining, and in recent weeks they had taken on an intensity that had led her to avoiding sleep altogether whenever she could. But this was new. Usually she'd see the archdemon in her dreams, ordering forth its army. She'd see Alistair killing it. Over and over again she'd see him die. Sometimes these scenes would be layered over with other horrors: the madness she'd seen in the Deep Roads, the plight of the werewolves and, yes, sometimes the Circle. But when she dreamed of the Circle, she dreamed abominations, or being trapped in the sloth demon's maze. She hadn't dreamed about Cullen before.

Had it been a dream? Or had she seen something in the Fade that had really occurred?

She could easily believe it. Both Wardens and mages were prone to visions and it certainly fit with what she knew of what had transpired there.

Her heart was still vibrating in her chest.

She shouldn't have slept. But when the adrenaline of everything that had happened the night before had worn off, she'd been too exhausted to keep her eyes open.

Cullen had almost died for her. He'd severely injured himself to help a blood mage. And he'd said he considered her a friend. Everything else – the Herald's return, the way the entire Inquisition had come together to sing a song of hope – paled when compared with those events. He cared about her. Maybe not in the way she would have liked.

Would have liked…

Her stomach flipped. She repeated his name, feeling it against her tongue.

Whatever else the dream may have meant, it had revealed one thing. She would walk through fire for him. An unsettling admission, but one no less true.

It had been a very long time since she'd wanted anyone.

But she wanted him.

And not just as a friend.

But the way he'd looked at her when she'd touched his cheek threw ice water on that desire. She sank back down onto her bed roll. She was a mage. A mage and a Warden, who was slowly being driven mad by a hunger he knew nothing of.

* * *

Trevelyan had gone to scout ahead, and the rest of them were packing up the camp. Cullen had been locked in argument with Josephine, Leliana and Cassandra for what felt like half the morning discussing their next move. It just kept going around in circles. His men had signed up to close the hole in the sky. They'd signed up when there'd been a base of operations, guaranteed warm meals, relative safety. Within one night, all that had changed. He couldn't ask them to keep fighting now. He wanted to tell them to return home to their families. But then what? Josephine was right in one respect. The Inquisition was nothing without them. And now they had some idea what they were up against, he knew the Inquisition was more important than ever.

He had a leaden feeling in his stomach. The kind that had preceded each Harrowing that he'd been tasked to watch over. He knew the danger. He knew his duty. Even if he didn't like it. His duty in this case was to continue to ask that they stay, ask that they give more than they ever initially agreed to, ask that they trust it was for a good cause, even if he wasn't sure of that himself.

"Cullen?"

Her soft voice startled him out of his thoughts. Solana was standing behind him, her rosy cheeks and red hair a stark contrast to the snow that covered everything else.

"Did I startle you?"

He cleared his throat. "No. Yes. I was lost in thought, sorry. What can I do for you?"

She came a little closer. "How are your hands?"

Much as he hated to admit it, the rebel mage leader had done wonders. He could understand how she'd earned her title. He'd never seen healing magic quite as powerful. The skin was still a little raw, but he hardly felt any pain.

"They're good, thank you."

Fiona had found him once the excitement about the Herald's survival had abated. She'd insisted that his injury was worth seeing to, even though she had so many more serious patients.

"I hear you're quite the hero," she'd said in her thick Orlesian accent with a little smile he had no idea how to interpret.

"You hear incorrectly." If anyone was a hero, it was the Herald. It was Cullen's duty to keep the people of the Inquisition safe and in that he had failed. They were out in the middle of nowhere, their base of operations destroyed. He knew that the others must blame him. If he'd been better prepared…

"Nonsense," Fiona had said. "I spoke with Celeste when I healed her. She told me how you got this injury. Saving a malificar, who would have thought?"

He didn't know what she would have expected. Only a monster would have left the woman under that beam when able to help.

Now Solana smiled at him, eyes darting to the side. "I'm glad."

He'd looked for her the night before, but had been unable to find her. He hadn't had an opportunity to explain his reaction to her touch.

"Solana…" His heart was already pounding and his mouth went instantly dry. Where did he even start?

"No, wait, I… I have something to say. I wanted to apologise."

"You already apologised."

"No, not for… about last night. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't –"

"I just… when you spoke about the Circle, you looked so… I do want to be your friend, Cullen. I'm not very good with people." She gave him a sardonic smile. "It's something they leave out of the stories, I'm sure."

"You seem fine to me."

"That's kind but… sometimes I don't always do the appropriate thing. I wouldn't want that to come between us."

"Between us?"

"As friends."

 _As friends. Of course._

"I know how important propriety is to you. You said last night that you considered me a friend. I hope that hasn't changed?"

"No," he said quickly.

She sighed, so deeply that her shoulders moved. "Good."

This conversation was a bit like that rope game that his sisters liked to play. Finding the right point to jump in without tripping was nearly impossible. But now the ropes had suddenly stopped swinging and he didn't know what to say.

 _Say you like her. Say you didn't find her caress inappropriate. Say you want more._

He swallowed, unable to summon his voice.

 _Say something, anything._ "I enjoy being your friend."

 _Maker's balls._

He cleared his throat again. "It's, um. It's nice talking."

A fade rift would be really useful right now. Or an archdemon. Anything that could swallow him and save him from his own awkwardness. "The weather looks good today. For travel, I mean. We're heading North, I believe."

 _Sweet Andraste._

She smiled mildly and nodded.

"I should… I should go pack. We'll be travelling soon."

"Alright," she said.

He turned from her and trudged away through the snow, feeling himself flushing. What in Thedas was wrong with him?

* * *

When the trees started to grow sparse, Cullen ordered that the Inquisition stop for a while to collect firewood for the nights ahead.

He told his men to disperse and put their sword arms to work chopping logs and branches into a manageable, transportable, size. They'd managed to take some tools from Haven's stores in the evacuation, and he found himself an axe and headed off to make himself useful.

Varric surprised him by volunteering to assist. They found a wooded spot and worked together for a time – Varric gathering branches and Cullen chopping – before Varric sighed and dropped the latest pile at Cullen's feet.

"You need to tell her."

"What?" The axe slammed down skew, the piece he'd been cutting went flying off into the snow. _Elegant response._

Varric rolled his eyes. "You've been making moony eyes at her this whole journey. You have to tell her how you feel, she's not going to receive the message by telepathy. I mean she's an impressive mage, but I don't think mind reading's in her box of tricks."

"I have not…" he stopped, realising it was useless denying it. The dwarf was probably right. "I can't."

"Why?"

Cullen stooped to pick up the errant piece of wood. _Because I'm useless at this_. "Because I told her I wanted to be friends."

"You did what? Why would you do that?"

"I… I panicked."

Varric shook his head.

"You don't have to say it. I know I'm hopeless."

"No, not hopeless. An idiot maybe." He hiked up his trousers and sat down on a stump. "What exactly did you say?"

Cullen told him, word for word as much as he could remember. The dwarf frowned thoughtfully. "Well I'm not going to lie, you've definitely dug yourself into a hole. But there's still time to back out of it."

"I'm all ears."

"You have to _tell_ her."

"I tried that."

"Try harder."

Cullen groaned. "What do I even say?"

"Tell her that you do want to be friends, but you wouldn't be in opposition to a little extra. For instance, if she wished to touch your cheek…"

The very idea of being so direct made Cullen's insides seize up.

"I can't. What if she – she knows how I used to feel about her. Surely if she had any interest in pursuing something more, she would have said? She wouldn't be so adamant about us being friends."

"Or she's adamant about you being friends so she can get closer to you."

He closed his eyes. "What about Alistair?"

"The dead guy?"

"She pledged herself to him, I'm sure of it."

"Commander, if she hasn't been with anyone in over a decade, then your chances are probably even better than you think."

It was freezing cold, but Cullen was starting to feel overheated. He scratched at his neck. He shouldn't be talking about this at all. Why was he discussing it with Varric of all people? Was he really that desperate?

Yes. Yes, he was.

Varric put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. "Alright, how about this? You catch her alone by the fire. She's had a meal, she's relaxed. You're all rugged from a day of travel. You seem less pallid in the firelight."

"Less what?"

"Never mind that, the fire sets the mood. Go with me on this one. You take her hands in yours and tell her the truth about how you feel."

Cullen met Varric's gaze. He waited for more. There wasn't any more. "That's it?"

"Yes."

"The truth?"

"Yes."

"And if she's horrified by it? If she won't come near me again?"

"That's not going to happen."

"You don't know that." Cullen dropped the axe and ran his fingers through his hair. "How will I even get her alone by the fire?"

"Wait until everyone else has gone to sleep."

"What if she goes to sleep earlier?"

"She doesn't." Varric offered a thin smile. "Trust me, Curly. Your Warden has far too much on her mind. She doesn't sleep until she absolutely needs to."

His heart ached at the thought of her sitting up, late into the night, staring into the flames. Perhaps if he did this, if he could get the words out, he might be in a position to offer her some comfort.

"Okay, dwarf. I'll give it a try."

"That's what I like to hear." He rose to his feet and swaggered away, presumably to gather more wood.

"Wait!"

Varric glanced back over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

"This isn't some trick. Revenge for Kirkwall?"

Varric chuckled and shook his head. "Curly, if I wanted revenge for Kirkwall, you're pretty close to the bottom of my list. Well… maybe somewhere closer to the middle. But you'd see it coming. Although, now that you mention it, love can be exceptionally painful. I might not be doing you any favours."

A shadow seemed to come over his features. There was a story there, but Cullen knew better than to ask.

* * *

The fire roared brightly. The hunters had found ram and everyone had eaten well. Now they gathered in the small warm circle of light, swapping tales.

Solana was telling one now, and Cullen was trying to listen but struggling to focus. It was late already. There were too many people still here. Couldn't they just stop enjoying themselves and go to their tents?

"And so we just walked right out of the keep," she concluded.

Those gathered around roared with laughter. Solana smiled. Maker, her smile was beautiful.

"That's impossible," Cassandra jumped in, glancing at Cullen as if to make sure she wasn't alone in thinking this. "You're saying that _Teyrn Loghain_ , the famous strategist and one of the greatest military minds of his generation, didn't even have some kind of passcode in place?"

"Oh, he did," Solana said serenely. "But one of our young allies from the armoury had written it down so as not to forget it."

"You didn't… _kill_ him for it?" Trevelyan asked.

"Oh no. He provided the password and the Knight Commander let us leave on our first patrol."

More laughter.

"This is why they call you the Hero of Ferelden." Trevelyan was shaking his head. "No one else could wake up naked in a cell inside an enemy fortress and simply walk out."

" _You_ probably could." She responded and Cullen felt like the bottom had fallen out of the world. Everyone else was still exchanging banter, engaging in much-needed mirth. All he could see was the way she smiled at him.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't be here.

He stood abruptly. "I – I should get to bed. We have a long journey tomorrow."

"Are you feeling alright, Commander?" Cassandra questioned.

"Yes, just a headache." Let her think his withdrawal was driving him to sleep. That would be less humiliating than the truth.


	13. With passion'd breath

Cullen had just passed the first line of tents when Varric stepped into his path.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"It's not going to work."

The dwarf looked past Cullen, to the fire, "Why?"

He sighed. It was bad enough he'd failed, did he really have to explain? "There are too many people."

"So... take her aside from all the people. Come on, Commander. You've fought psychopathic blood mages and demon hordes and _this_ is what scares you?"

He wasn't sure which was truly worse. In battle he knew what to do. There was a list of techniques and tactics at his disposal, and when it came to a fight, muscle memory and instinct took over. He had refined his skill over years. That's not to say he'd never been with a woman. He _had_ been with women. But the stakes had never been this high. What if she was so horrified that she refused to speak to him again? He couldn't bear that. Even if it drove a wedge between them, any wedge. Friendship was fine, it was better than nothing.

The dwarf took his arm and turned him around. "Take a look, Curly."

Solana was sitting beside the Herald. She was leaning close, laughing at something he'd said. Cullen felt ice rush through him.

"I've written enough romances to see where that is heading," Varric said.

The glow of the fire made Trevelyan look even more attractive than usual. He was speaking animatedly, hands gesturing wildly. Solana's eyes were glowing, _she_ was glowing.

Cullen jerked forward, not even sure what he was doing. His limbs felt alien. Images flashed in his mind of the two of them, what could happen if they were left alone together like that all night. It would be too late. It was now or...

She looked up at him and he was still surprised to find himself standing beside her.

He swallowed, cleared his throat. "May I have a word with you?"

Her brow creased. He'd interrupted Trevelyan mid-sentence. _Sweet Andraste what am I doing..._

"Of course." She stood, draping her cloak across her shoulders. Her hair caught the light and it looked like enchanted flame.

Cullen was only vaguely aware of Varric slipping in next to the perplexed Trevelyan and starting his own tale as they moved away, towards a patch of trees. His palms were sweating. He opened and closed his fists, not sure what to do with his hands. Eventually, he settled them on his sword hilt. Solana walked beside him in silence.

It was a clear night. The moon shone through the trees, dappling the snow, and every now and then stars peeked out between branches. He could still hear the chorus of the wolves, but they were far away and no threat.

What did he say? He had to say something. The quiet was stretching between them, stretching to breaking point.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

He turned to her so quickly that she startled. "What do you think of the Herald?"

"Max? I'm glad he survived. He seems brave, and able, and kind. The nobles and the common folk both seem to like him, which is rare. Why?"

Every word was like a blow. Why hadn't he seen this earlier? Why hadn't he acted earlier? He was already too late. While he'd been arguing with himself about his feelings, Trevelyan had been fighting archdemons, surviving the impossible, saving them all… even now they were stuck in the mountains, he'd been scouting ahead to ensure their survival while Cullen had been… chopping wood.

Solana touched his arm and it sent heat rushing up it, straight to his head. "Why, has he… has he done something I should know about?"

"No," Cullen said. He couldn't say more. He felt lightheaded. Curse that dwarf for making him do this.

"Then you suspect something?"

"No." _Get a hold on yourself._ "No, I just wanted to find out how you… you feel about him."

She stared at him. There was just enough light to see her expression. She frowned, a thin line appearing between her eyebrows. _No, no, no_ he'd said the wrong thing again. She was offended.

"Who put you up to this?" she asked. "Is Leliana trying to play matchmaker?"

"No." _Maker forbid._

"Her eyes grew a little wider with apparent realisation and he couldn't breathe.

"Did he send you to ask me?"

"No."

"Who put you up to this, who are you asking for?"

There was no air, it felt like the world was spinning. She was suspicious, upset and he couldn't think.

"Me!" He burst out. The word hung in the cold air between them. "I'm asking for me," he said. His throat was so constricted he wasn't even sure if she heard.

She took a step closer and he didn't know what more to say.

Then she stood on her toes and kissed him.

Tentative, soft, warm. And then over.

He opened his eyes and he must have looked as shocked as he felt because she frowned again. "I misread the… I'm sorr-"

He cut off her words with a kiss of his own, sliding his hand beneath her flaming hair and bringing his lips to hers. A proper, deep, kiss this time. And she returned it. Sweet Andraste, she returned it. He was flying, tingling, burning, his desire for her was the only thing that truly existed on that icy mountain. His desire and her hands tangling through his hair and the feel of her lips and his heart pounding against his chest. And her, the smell of her skin. Always like roses, even after all this time, even in the midst of such a long journey. He pulled away only when he was out of breath and he found her smiling. An answering smile tugged at his cheeks of its own volition.

"I apologise. I didn't mean to interrupt you."

She laughed breathlessly. He backed her against a tree trunk and returned his attention to her mouth, unable to resist her lips now he could finally taste them. And oh, how sweet she tasted. Even better than he'd imagined.

She moved her mouth from his to kiss along his jaw, up towards his ear.

"Max and Cassandra are involved," she whispered.

He pulled away to look at her. She was clearly trying to keep a straight face, but she was failing. The corners of her lips were twitching.

"Since when?" he asked.

"A while now. You didn't think it strange how she knew her way around his quarters? She knew just where to find his breeches." She grinned. "Cullen, they're sharing a tent."

"Varric knows?"

"Varric keeps threatening to put it into one of his books."

He wasn't sure whether to be amused or angry. The dwarf had played him. He'd simply insinuated… and Cullen had been utterly convinced. "I'm going to have to have a word with him."

"Oh really?" she was leaning back against the tree. She hooked her arms around his neck again and, as she brought his lips back to hers, he thought maybe he could forgive Varric. This time.

They spent a long while in silence, kissing and touching. He had gone too many years without touching her, now he never wanted to stop. Her lips moved to his ear again.

"Would you like to join me in my tent?" she breathed.

"Maker, yes."

* * *

Alistair had been all hands and enthusiasm. He'd needed gentle guidance and his attempts had been hit and miss, but Cullen approached lovemaking with military precision. He knew exactly which places to assault with his lips, his fingers. He left Solana gasping, wanting, needing and she had to bite down on her tongue to stop herself crying out and alerting the whole camp to his efforts.

Still, he managed to coax sounds from her that she couldn't recall ever making before. Primal sounds that matched the rataplan of her heart. He silenced her with kisses and held her close to his chest as if she was the most precious treasure, more valuable than the weapon of Tyrdda Bright-Axe, more sacred than Andraste's Ashes.

"Why did we never do this before?" she asked him as her breath came back to her. Their limbs were still tangled together, their faces inches apart in the small space where she usually slept.

He smiled in the dim moonlight and her stomach tugged with fresh desire. "If I'd known you'd be amenable to the idea..." He trailed off, hand reaching up to stroke her hair from her cheek. When he spoke again his voice was low and soft. "You know how long I've wanted this."

"So that thing about wanting to be my friend..."

He chuckled, ducking his chin. "I panicked. I... I'm not very good at this."

"I don't know, you seem quite adept to me."

His eyes rose to meet hers again. "Honestly, I am glad to be your friend. I like being close to you. Not just... like this. Back at the Circle, you were this..." He swallowed, and his brow furrowed.

"This?" she propped her head up on her arm.

She could see he was struggling to put his thoughts into words. "I watched you - I mean, we watched all of you. I never meant for it to be... I mean there was never anything inappropriate."

"You never stole a peek at me changing robes?"

He looked horrified. "No!"

"I was joking."

He took a deep breath, rolling onto his back. "We lived so close together. I saw the way you handled yourself, the way you treated everyone with respect and kindness. Even my - associates - who were less than civil." He glanced at her. "The day of your Harrowing was the most terrifying day of my life."

"Mine too. Well... up to that point."

"But I could never be close to you. Even as friends. I knew it was wrong for me to feel the way I did. And if anyone found out, you could be in danger and I never would have forgiven myself for that."

"I hate to break it to you, but everyone knew."

"What?" His head snapped to look at her and she was sure he'd gone a shade paler.

She tried not to show her amusement. She touched his chest, tracing the line of a scar that stretched from his collar bone to his heart. "I was teased mercilessly."

"I'm so sorry." He seemed genuinely contrite. "I never would have wanted -"

She placed a finger on his lips. "I was flattered."

That smile again. The jagged scar didn't detract from it, only emphasized the curve of his mouth, the dimples that few ever got to see. And now she was able to touch it, touch him.

"I wanted you too," she said. A confession she'd never imagined herself making. She had thought many times of asking him to meet her somewhere private, risking everything. But she'd been too much of a coward. Always the good girl, following the Grand Enchanter's commands to the letter. Even when they had meant betraying her friends.

Cullen was staring at her, unmoving, and he seemed to be holding his breath. Her revelation had affected him more than she'd expected. Perhaps she shouldn't have said anything.

"I've upset you."

"No... quite the opposite." The corner of his mouth twitched. "All these years I've felt like some kind of degenerate, infatuated with someone who could never possibly return my feelings."

She moved in close to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"Hmm?" His arms encircled her. She felt safe and warm and sleepy.

"What might have happened had I stayed?"

"I'd rather not think of that." It took her a moment to realise he was referring to Uldred's plot.

"You know I'd never perform blood magic, right? Never."

"I know."

"It isn't like you said back then. Back when..." back when she'd found him after suffering those days of torture. She couldn't say it. The memory of her nightmare was fresh in her mind. "Not all of us give in to temptation."

"Solana..." he caressed her hair, "Let's not speak of this now. I didn't mean you would have... I meant you may have been... I'd rather face these wasted years and have you here than imagine you trapped in that tower, imagine that any of those screams I heard could have been yours."

* * *

Solana woke to a cold, dark tent. The place where Cullen had been was empty and there was no residual heat on the blanket.

She rubbed away the last traces of the nightmare from her eyes. Something about demons and blood. The usual fare.

The cold had woken her. Usually she slept wrapped in layers, not naked. She pulled the blanket around her. It smelled like him.

 _Cullen…_

Unbidden memories from the hours before came to her. The way he'd caressed her skin, the way he'd felt when they'd joined.

 _Oh, she was far gone. There was no coming back from this._

But could he ever truly love a mage? It was one thing to say he wanted to be close to her. But how close was close?

That he was gone said something. She shouldn't have mentioned blood magic.

There was no chance of going back to sleep now. Their earlier activities had provided a nice distraction from the Calling, but now it was back, pressing in on her, setting her teeth on edge.

Cold and anxious, she dressed quickly, wrapping the blanket around her over her clothes. Would the fire still be going? She needed warmth and comfort and the central camp fire would be the only place to find those things before dawn.

There was already someone hunched over the fire as she approached, no more than a silhouette. He was poking it with a stick, trying to coax the embers to life. As she grew closer, her stomach clenched. She recognised the shape of him before she saw the dim light of the coals illuminate his face.

He heard her boots crunching in the snow at the same moment and looked up. He froze and she didn't know how to read his expression.

"I hope I didn't wake you," he said.

She let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, and drew nearer. "When did you leave?"

"Not long ago. I… I suffer nightmares, sometimes. I didn't want to disturb you."

A weight lifted from her heart. It was easier to breathe now. He didn't seem upset. Still… "I want to apologise."

He straightened. "Whatever for?"

"For bringing up the Circle and what happened there. I know it's not something you want to remember."

"There's no need to apologise. I remember it daily, regardless." He looked away from her, back at the fire where a flame was licking the wood he'd added. "I know you wouldn't have been a part of that. I hope you believe I wasn't implying that."

"I do."

She settled on the log near him. "I know that many Templars truly think that if you put any mage into a tight enough corner, they'll always turn to blood magic."

"It's not such a crazy thing to believe." He sat down beside her, but he was still looking at the fire and Solana thought that maybe he was avoiding looking at her. "If I had access to a fantastic weapon, a weapon that could get me out of any situation… I don't know if I'd be able to avoid using it if I felt I needed to."

"I would."

He glanced at her and she knew he was unconvinced. It was all very well and good to say that, when you were relatively safe, in the glow of a campfire.

"I know I would because I have."

His lips parted and his expression changed. She dropped her gaze to her lap.

"There's something that I've never told anyone, about that night, that night we ended the Blight." She took a deep breath. The ring glinted in the firelight. With the smell of the smoke it was easy to imagine she was back there. "I could have saved him."

"Alistair?" Cullen prompted.

"Yes. History has no doubt recorded that we were travelling with a Witch of the Wilds."

"I have heard so."

"The night before we rode into battle, she offered me a bargain." Solana twisted the ring. It was still so difficult to speak of it. "We could both live, she said. And it wasn't really blood magic so much as old magic that involved blood."

"That sounds... bad." An echo of her own words when he'd told her about Kirkwall.

"You haven't heard what it was yet." Twist, twist, twist. "She wanted a child. Alistair's child."

"I see… no, actually. A child, as in…?"

"As in she wanted to lie with him and conceive his child, yes."

"I'm sorry Solana, I'm not sure I follow. This child would have ensured he lived?"

 _Of course, he wouldn't understand._ He didn't know about the Taint. He didn't know what she really was. She should tell him now, to the Fade with Warden secrets. They were literally killing her.

She swallowed. "There's a reason that a Warden has to kill the archdemon. It's not about strength and skill. That's what they say, but it's a lie."

She had his full attention, those warm brown eyes seemed to bore into hers and he was frowning with concern for her.

Could he look at her the same way if he knew what she carried in her blood? He was of the Chantry. Would he think her some twisted form of darkspawn?

"I can't speak of it." _Coward._ "But this child would inherit it. And by Morrigan's rituals, all three of us would live."

"What did Alistair have to say about this?"

"I didn't tell him."

She let the words hang until the silence was unbearable.

"You think I kept the offer from him because I was jealous, because I didn't want them to lie together."

"I didn't say that."

"That's not why. I… I didn't tell him because I knew he'd agree. He was so good, so kind… but he wouldn't understand. There was no way he'd comprehend the stakes beyond the fact that we could be together. Morrigan said it wasn't real blood magic, but it was, just old. And the child, that innocent that she would raise as her own, what kind of life would it live? She insisted Alistair was not to know it. What if it was some evil beast that we – I – released upon the world out of my own selfishness? It _was_ blood magic. That was what mattered. After seeing everything that blood magic could do… I made my decision. If it came down to him or me, I would die. My whole life had lead up to that moment, to slaying that demon. My mage training, my time as a Warden, building my army… everything culminated in that final strike. It was mine. I'd made my peace with it. Choosing between a blood magic ritual and my own life was easy."

"But he made the strike instead."

"Templar-trained. He suppressed my magic."

" _Maker._ "

She nodded and closed her eyes. Her emotions were close to overwhelming her and she didn't want him to see that. "Tell me I made the right choice?"

"Of course you made the right choice."

His arms wrapped around her and her breath shuddered as she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his breast plate.

"I know I should have told him. I shouldn't have made that decision for him."

"It was blood magic. It was evil. It wouldn't have mattered if you'd told him, because you wouldn't have let him do it. Would you?"

 _No._ "I tried to tell him. But I couldn't. I couldn't give him that hope knowing it was false, knowing that if he said yes, I'd have to refuse. But he knew I was hiding something from him. He kept asking and –" she drew a deep breath. Cullen wasn't the person to tell about how they'd spent that final night apart, about how Alistair had coolly excused himself to go to bed when she'd refused to tell him.

Cullen stroked her hair and held her close. "It's not your fault he died."

She didn't respond.

"It's not, Solana. It was the Blight. He was a Warden. He did his sacred duty, he died a hero. It was his choice."

"He didn't know there was another way…"

"There wasn't. If you'd felt there was, you would have offered it to him."

"Don't tell Leliana."

"Leliana would agree with me. Or did you miss the Chantry insignia she wears on her breast?"

Solana let out another shaking breath.

Cullen took her hand and it was a moment before she realised he was staring at the ring. She'd just slept with him, and yet she was wearing another man's ring. She cleared her throat, moving away.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

She bit her lip. "It's not what you think. The ring. It's not… It's not a promise ring or anything like that. He didn't give it to me."

"I wasn't going to –"

"I took it from his corpse."

The way she said it sounded even more heartless than the act itself. She wanted to take the words back. She stared at Cullen, in horror at herself. But his eyes were full of sympathy, as if she hadn't just admitted to something so awful.

"You wanted something to remember him by."

"I…" How to put this into words. "I wasn't ready to say goodbye. This… this is all that was left."

She pulled it from her finger and stared down at the familiar crest. The Grey Wardens, the Wardens now out to perform blood magic. Leliana was right, the ring wasn't Alistair. It wasn't even a part of him. It was habit.

She lifted her arm to throw it into the flame, but Cullen caught her hand. She looked at him, askance.

"Keep it."

"Why?"

His hand closed around hers. "We all have our scars, Solana. You should be able to bear yours, the way I bear mine."


	14. Light in this darken'd time

"So... how'd it go?"

They were trekking again up a wide and steep snowy trail. The sun glinted off the ice, making Cullen squint. Varric had caught up with him and Cullen slowed down to accommodate the dwarf's narrow stride.

"A gentleman does not kiss and tell," Cullen said, unable to keep himself from smiling. He'd held Solana to him, beside the fire, until the first sounds of dawn and the change of the watch. She'd fallen asleep against his chest. His back was stiff from sitting upright for so many hours, but it had been worth it, so very worth it.

"But there _was_ kissing?" Varric's eyes sparkled. Cullen let his smile speak for itself. "I'm happy for you, Curly."

"So..." Cullen couldn't resist. "Cassandra and Trevelyan?"

Varric shrugged, "you know what they say, power attracts power. I think they suit each other."

"You might have mentioned that last night."

"I could have."

"Bastard."

Varric laughed and slapped him on the back.

* * *

That night they camped by a river, an icy stream that trickled from the peaks, edges frozen like jagged crystal. Solana set up her tent near the water and sat with Celeste, using advanced spellwork to ensnare their evening meal of fresh fish.

Cullen arranged the night's patrols and sent out scouting parties to check for danger. He watched her from a distance, like in the Circle. And, like in the Circle, she caught him looking a few times. But now he didn't mind. He smiled at her when their eyes happened to lock, and she smiled back. It felt like those first moments after a dose of lyrium whenever she did that. His heart beat faster, his head felt light. He felt invincible.

They sat apart when the Inquisition gathered around the fire that night, stealing glances, not wanting to make their attraction too obvious.

She excused herself early. She let her eyes meet his for a long moment as she did. Varric had said she was always last to leave and he gave Cullen a significant look as she left. He didn't want to read too much into it. Dare he hope her look had been an invitation?

He waited a reasonable amount of time, then told the others he was going to turn in.

He'd go past her tent to check… he didn't want to assume. She hadn't actually _said_ anything.

She stepped out from behind one of the tents as he approached, hands clasped innocently behind her back. There was nothing innocent about the way she was looking at him.

They didn't speak. He took her into his arms and assaulted her lips with his own. She hummed her approval as her arms encircled his neck. He carried her the rest of the way to her tent, she didn't protest.

It was darker than it had been the night before. Her tent was shielded from the moonlight by surrounding shrubs and a few overhanging trees. He undressed her by feel alone, kissing her skin as he uncovered it. He'd spent the day imagining things he could do to her, new ways he could demonstrate how he felt in the language of skin and touch. First was her neck, softer than a newborn nug against his lips. He discovered a spot below her jaw that seemed particularly sensitive. Her fingers clenched against his back as he kissed it.

She pushed him away. He was surprised, confused. But only for an instant before her hands were at his belt, the buckle being undone was the only sound.

Her lips met his again. "Lie back," she whispered.

He obeyed.

She found him in the dark. Delicate touches, smooth skin, exquisite torture. He couldn't see anything but a vague shadow as she moved over him, so when connection came he cried out in surprise and pleasure.

She laughed against his mouth. "Is this alright?"

"Yes." His hands found her hips. "Oh, yes."

* * *

She was curled up against him, her breathing even. A small, warm body, lost in dreams. He hoped they were good ones. He touched her hair again, feather light, not wanting to wake her. Her arm was draped across his stomach. He gently lifted it, immediately missing its warmth, and shifted away from her.

"Don't go." Her voice was thick with sleep.

He bent to kiss her temple. "Go back to sleep."

Her hand found his cheek. "Please stay. It doesn't hurt when you're here."

He froze. Her warm fingers caressed his face with a sleepy lethargy. "What doesn't hurt?"

She didn't answer. Had she fallen asleep again? What pain was she talking about? He didn't know what to do. How could he leave her in pain? How could he stay and…

"I'll wake you if I stay. I… the nightmares. It's not a good idea for me to be with anyone when I get them."

He felt her move. Her hand was still on his cheek, but it travelled downward, her thumb tracing the line of his scar.

"The Circle?" she sounded more awake.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"You're the last person who should apologise. You saved me. If it hadn't been for you arriving when you did…"

"I should have come sooner. If I'd known…"

"You couldn't have known."

He heard her shifting, then her lips met his. The Circle disappeared from his mind, blanked out by her. She was all-encompassing, overwhelming every one of his senses. One arm snaked around his neck, her other hand pressed against his chest.

"Stay?"

"Alright." _Just until dawn._

* * *

A murmur of voices against the backdrop of water flowing over stones. He was back in Honnleath. He could hear the mill and the farmers heading out to tend their fields.

Grey light filtered in from the tent canopy. Cullen blinked.

 _Oh shit._

He jerked upright, reaching for his clothes. Light. Morning. The sounds of people packing up the camp.

Solana sat up too, blinking away sleep. Her eyes fell on him and realisation seemed to hit, because her hand flew to her mouth.

She giggled.

He stared at her. Didn't she understand how serious this was? Sneaking out of her tent in front of his men, and the rest of the Inquisition. He'd never live this down.

Something must have showed in his expression because she sobered and came towards him. She was still naked and for a dizzying moment he wasn't sure if he really wanted to escape her tent or lie her down again and forget about all of them, stay here on this mountain, just the two of them.

She pressed her cheek to his and kept her voice low. "Wait here."

It took her only a moment to dress and then she slipped out of the tent. He sat still, trying to figure out what she was doing, then realised he'd better put clothes on in case he needed to make a run for it.

When she ducked her head in again, he was dressed and attaching his sword to his hip.

"Coast's clear."

"How?"

"I'm magic, remember?" She offered a sweet smile then ducked out again.

It turned out, she'd told those packing up nearby that she'd wanted to wash in the stream before they left. Being the good sers they were, they'd allowed her her privacy without questioning how she'd possibly bathe in water so cold. Thank the Maker Solana had set up her tent so far apart from the others.

"They said the scouts returned already," she reported as she started the process of taking down the tent. "There's some sort of structure in the distance. Max and Solas have gone ahead to take a closer look, but if we leave soon we'll be there by sunset."

"I should have gone with them." Cullen said. He was watching her, not sure what he should do to help. Staying with her had been irresponsible, he'd been shirking his duty. "It could be dangerous."

"They'll be careful." She met his eyes, smiled, returned to her work. She was adept at camping. She moved much quicker than he could, with a grace that obviously came with years of practice. "Thank you."

"Hmm?" her words caught him off guard.

"Thank you for staying."

"Oh." He didn't know what to say. That he'd enjoyed it? That it had possibly been the best night of his life? That he hadn't suffered a single nightmare? That he wanted to fall asleep in her arms every day for the rest of his life? _Too much, too soon._ "You're welcome."


	15. Rendered to dust

"Fenedhis! How was a place like this left empty?"

The elf who'd volunteered to help Cullen with room allocation was looking up at Skyhold's central tower, agape. The late afternoon sun draped the courtyard in autumn colours and glinted golden off the windows, making the crumbling fortress seem even grander than it was.

Cullen was more interested in how they'd managed to find it, stumbling blindly through the snow. They could have headed in any direction, but they'd chosen this one. _Trevelyan_ had chosen this one.

Maybe there really was some truth to his being the Herald of Andraste?

The supplies had been offloaded and mostly sorted, now it was the people that needed places.

Josephine approached with her clipboard. "I've taken one last tour of the place. I'm not certain if some of these rooms can really be called rooms…" She handed him a parchment with a list on it. "But the old barracks is mostly standing and there is plentiful space to set up tents."

The council had gone around when they'd first arrived, selecting the most strategic places for the war room and various offices. They had had few disagreements (for once). Trevelyan had suggested that they divide up what had once been some kind of royal wing into quarters, but Cullen, Cassandra, Josephine and Leliana had decided otherwise. Trevelyan didn't know it yet, but it was already being outfitted into his new room, a bed chamber worthy of an Inquisitor.

Now they needed to decide on allocation for everyone else. Cullen had been set up at a rickety wooden table and Josephine had asked everyone to line up and come forward one at a time. She'd also insisted that Cullen be in charge. Apparently he looked formidable. He wasn't sure that was a compliment, but if the Ambassador thought that meant fewer people would argue, he was happy to go along with it.

They were about half way down the list of rooms when he looked up to find Solana standing in front of him.

"Don't worry about giving me a room," she said, addressing the elf who was scribbling on the clipboard. She glanced at Cullen. "I've been sleeping in a tent for years. It doesn't make a difference to me."

"You realise you _are_ the Hero of Ferelden."

Varric chimed in from where he stood just behind her. "Traditionally heroes do get the best rooms."

She smiled serenely. "Honestly, I don't need a room."

The elf looked to Cullen for confirmation. After a moment, he nodded.

* * *

It took Cullen a while to find her later. She'd been helping settle the wounded while he'd been busy assigning quarters. Then she seemingly disappeared. He eventually found her in the pantry, dusting down shelves.

She greeted him warmly. "Thank you for supporting me earlier. I thought you'd argue."

He slipped into the narrow pantry beside her. It smelled like dust, but he liked the close quarters. He particularly liked that they were entirely alone. "I will admit I had ulterior motives."

"Oh?" She looked up at him. They were close enough that he could see the gold flecks in her green eyes. It took all his self control not to bend down and kiss her. But he wasn't sure he'd stop at kissing.

" _I_ have a room," he said instead. "It's not much. It's a loft really, above my office. Cozy. With a hole in the roof."

"Nothing like some fresh air."

"The pigeons particularly enjoy it."

She grinned.

Now for the hard part. "We could share it."

The smile disappeared. His stomach flipped. The blood rushing in his ears was calling for retreat and suddenly he wasn't so glad of the close quarters.

"I see," he said.

"Cullen…"

"It's all right. It was merely a suggestion. It's too soon. I understand." He shifted away from her, wanting nothing more than to get some distance between them. What had he been _thinking_?

She snagged his sleeve. "It's not that I don't want to."

He examined her face, trying to read her expression. "If you're concerned about how it would appear – us living together – I assure you, it's quite discreet. The room is above my office." He'd said that already. "It's on the ramparts. You could come and go without anyone noticing." He was talking too much. He sounded too desperate.

"It's not that. "

He dropped his gaze. "Forgive me. We've only been together two days and I'm already –"

"I'm dying."

The world stopped. The air left his lungs. His heart stopped beating. Even the roar in his ears from his embarrassment stopped. Then it rushed back. His heart kicked again, hard. She was speaking. He needed to listen.

"Grey Wardens we… Wardens are tainted. That's why we can kill archdemons. That's how we're immune to darkspawn. There's a ritual. Their blood is part of it. But it also means that we…" she swallowed. He wasn't sure he could keep up with what she was saying. "We have a limited lifespan after that ritual. Eventually the Taint gets us, our blood starts singing, drawing us to the Deep Roads. I've been hearing this Calling for months now."

"Months?" He repeated stupidly. She'd known for months?

"It's why I left the mountains. It… it was premature. I thought the other Wardens might have answers for me. But it was affecting them too. We're all hearing it. I don't know why."

She paused, looking up at him. He was unable to speak.

"I… I don't know how much longer I can fight it off. Every day it grows more intense."

It… _what was she talking about?_ He was still struggling to follow. "You have the Blight sickness? That's what you're telling me?"

Her eyes were searching his face, but she didn't say anything.

"Are you a… a ghoul?"

"I'm a Grey Warden."

"Is there a difference?"

She broke eye contact. No. That's what she was confessing to him. There wasn't a difference. The progression of the disease was merely delayed and her time had come.

"Why didn't you tell me?" All the time they'd spent together, and she'd never once… how little did she regard him?

"We're not meant to tell anyone."

"The Inquisition could have helped you."

"You forget, I came to them asking for that help. I am yet to receive it." Her words were cold as a slap. She closed her eyes. "The Inquisition has other priorities."

"If you'd told us the truth about –"

"I told you what was relevant."

"We can _save you_."

"No, you _can't_. I'm sorry, Cullen. There's only one known case of it ever being cured and it was under exceptional circumstances. Finding a way would take more time than I have."

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" He repeated, this time his voice broke. Let her see his emotion, let her understand what she was doing to him. How could she let him come to care for her so much when she _knew_? "You… you of all people should know this pain." The pain of losing someone who meant everything to you. "Why would you not warn me?"

The colour drained from her face. She hung her head. "You're right. It was selfish."

He turned away from her, scrubbing his face with his hands. _Think, dammit. Think._ "It's premature you said. If we can figure out the cause, there's a chance it will stop?"

"Temporarily."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it comes for all Wardens eventually. Thirty years from the joining. At best."

He did fast arithmetic. Twenty years. Twenty years left.

"Twenty years is a long time." His voice sounded dead, even to his own ears.

"Is it?"

No, it wasn't. "I… I need some time to… I'm sorry."

Even as he swept away from her, he knew he shouldn't. He should stay, be strong. She was the one who needed comfort, who needed the reassurance. If he was a better man, he would have taken her into his arms and told her it was okay, he loved her regardless. He would have said that if they had so short a time together, they should make each moment count. But instead his feet rang in the stairwell up from the kitchen. Josephine was at her new desk, but he didn't know if she saw him or if she said anything. The hall was full of debris. Trevelyan called after him as he swept passed but didn't follow. Outside at last and up to the ramparts, up to where the mountain air ripped at his clothing and his hair.

He didn't realise where he was going until he was there. The box was sitting in the corner of the room with the rest of his possessions.

He had enough lyrium for one more hit.

* * *

"Cullen? Cullen? Oh Maker, speak to me."

The room swam. Her face came into view. Too perfect, another trick.

He closed his eyes. "It's not going to work." His tongue was thick, the words slurred.

He was so thirsty, his throat cracked and dry, but asking for water would only lead them to deny it longer. It was better to pretend he was already gone, maybe then they'd leave him alone for a few more hours.

They'd tried necromancy on Hollard. He'd lived again for five whole tormented minutes. Even dying wasn't an escape.

The scent of roses, her hand on his cheek.

"Stop, please…" Wasn't it enough to torture him with pain. Why did they have to torture him with pleasure too?

His guts wrenched and he jerked forward involuntarily. Were they trying to turn him inside out again?

"No, no, no, no, no…" she was saying. "Look at me, please, look at me."

She was tilting his head up, hand so soft. They liked to do that, counterpoint the soft with the hard. They'd burned all the way down his back a few days before. That heat had started as sensual too.

"Help! Help anyone!" she screamed.

"No! Stop hurting her!" He fought against his captor, they had her in that room! The room with the screams! Uldred had her. He needed to save her. He needed to save her even if it killed him.

He felt his blow land and launched forward. But his legs wouldn't work, he fell on his hands and knees, his stomach heaved and nausea overwhelmed him.

An empty stomach brought more clarity. He wasn't in the Circle. He was in his new office. And he hadn't been captured. He had been…

He looked back at the body he'd knocked aside.

 _No!_

Solana was slumped against the wall. He crawled over to her. What had he done? A sob escaped him. She was drifting in and out of focus.

 _I'm dying…_

 _No… No please no._ He raised a shaking hand to her mouth to feel for breath. She blinked slowly. Alive. Alive but he… he'd hit her. He looked at his hand as if it was not a part of him. How could it – he – have…

"Cullen?" She reached for him.

He jerked away, breath coming in ragged gasps. He was still holding the offending hand, she shouldn't come near it.

"Shhhh…" she moved onto her knees.

She was bleeding. There was blood dripping from a gash on her temple. He'd done that. He'd hurt her. Lyrium was supposed to take away the pain, why was this happening?

He curled in on himself, another sob ripping through him.

"Shhhh, it's alright." Her arms wrapped around him. He would have pushed her away, but his guts were churning again and he was trembling, suddenly freezing cold. He didn't deserve her comfort.

"I want to go get help," she said.

"Don't leave me."

She expelled a shaking breath, "Okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

The moon was painting long shadows across the floor by the time he figured out he'd overdosed. Young Templars built up their resistance to lyrium over time. Too high a dose was deadly. He hadn't considered what would happen if he took it again after months without it. He'd been stupid. Stupid and weak. And he'd hurt the one thing, the only thing, he cared about.

He wanted to tell her to leave him alone. But he couldn't bring himself to. She was an anchor in a world still spinning uncontrollably, crackling with confusing memories. Time was twisted in his head, the monsters from years ago were back for blood. He clung to her. The only thing that made sense.

He'd heard stories of Templars who took too much, or exposed themselves to raw Lyrium because they were too desperate for a hit. They went insane. There was no cure.

What if this was it? What if this never stopped?

He'd betrayed the Inquisition.

He'd betrayed her.

"Do you think you can stand?" she asked quietly.

No. But he'd try. He couldn't speak, his throat was too dry. So he tried to move away from her, remember how his muscles worked, get his feet under him.

"Easy," she grabbed his arm to steady him.

He tried to rise. He was too heavy.

"I'm going to remove your armour, alright?"

He nodded.

It was a relief. The metal had dug into him, the weight had pulled at his shoulders. She took his hand and he tried to stand again. She managed to sling his arm around her neck.

"Where are we going?" he managed to ask, his voice brittle and slow.

"I'm taking you to get help."

"You can't."

"This is beyond a matter of your pride."

"There is no one." He started shivering again, his knees gave in.

She eased him back to the floor. She sat on her haunches opposite, bathed in shadow. "I'm going to go get some supplies then. I promise, I won't be long. I'd put you to bed, but…" she glanced at the ladder that lead to his loft.

He wanted to ask her not to tell anyone, but it was too many words. His guts wrenched again and by the time he'd regained his equilibrium, she was gone.

He was curled up on foetal position on the floor – the only position where he felt like the ground wasn't moving – when he heard footsteps outside. He pressed his eyes closed. If it was one of his men, he didn't know what he'd do.

Candlelight flickered against his eyelids, then hurried footsteps. She fell to her knees beside him and breathed a sigh of relief when he opened his eyes. She set the candle down and tucked a blanket around him.

"I'm sorry." He meant for frightening her, but there was so much he had to be sorry for.

"Shhh, it's okay." She tucked a bundle of cloth under his head, a mean pillow, and ran a gentle hand through his hair.

"I love you." What a time to say it, lying prone on the floor after running out on her, after striking her. The candlelight illuminated the gash. His chest ached and he wasn't sure whether it was the lyrium or the guilt. He closed his eyes again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. Not now like this."

"You really frightened me there."

"I know."

"When I saw you slumped in the corner I thought… I thought something terrible had happened. I… did you take too much?"

He nodded, but the room started wobbling again.

"I'd given it up."

"I thought you couldn't give it up?"

"Evidently, you can't. Or, I can't. Someone better could."

"Cullen…"

He uncurled himself and tried to sit. "I'm undeserving of your sympathy."

"This is my fault."

"It is not."

"I shouldn't have broken the news about the Calling like that. I should have told you sooner, been more delicate."

"It's not your fault. It's mine and I…" The cut on her brow caught his eye again and the ache in his chest returned and it was echoed by his belly. He doubled over.

"Here," a clink of china. "I brought you some tea."

He accepted the cup, but his hand was shaking too hard and the liquid sloshed out.

"Easy, it's okay." She took it and guided it to his lips. It was already cooling, no doubt from the trip up across the freezing bailey. He gulped it down, there was honey which soothed his throat, and fragrant ginger, that smelled like safety. His mother had given him ginger when he'd been sick. It was a common Ferelden folk remedy.

She caressed his cheek as she lowered the cup. He was ashamed. "You shouldn't see me like this."

"It's not the first time."

Somehow that wasn't a comfort. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this…"

"Here, put your head in my lap. We can talk more in the morning."

He let her lower his head. "You don't need to stay." _Please stay._

"Of course I do." She stroked his hair. "I'm right here."

* * *

A/N: Two things: 1. I'm making some assumptions about lyrium here that aren't necessarily canon. It's basically a drug and I'm imagining that it behaves like a drug when it comes to addiction, resistance and withdrawal. 2. I couldn't find anything to confirm that ginger *doesn't* exist in Thedas. So, it hereby exists ;)


	16. None are alone

"I need your help."

Leliana looked at Solana bleary-eyed, lips in a soft frown.

Solana was out of breath. She'd run all the way up to the tower, sending startled ravens screeching. The spymaster had appeared at the top of the stairs with her bow and the arrow was still trained on Solana, where she stood in the shadows mid-way up the final flight.

"It's… it's Cullen."

Her words seemed to echo in the stairwell. It was long past midnight and there was no ambient noise. Even the Herald's Rest tavern had gone quiet.

Leliana blinked and slowly shouldered her bow. "What's happened?"

"Lyrium."

"I see."

Solana came the rest of the way up the stairs. "I didn't know who else to come to. I figured if anyone could keep a secret…" she trailed off, taking in the cages and crates, the corners of Leliana's sanctum where darkness pooled. "I know I can trust you."

"It's common knowledge that Cullen was a Templar, what's the secret?"

Solana wrapped her arms around herself. "He took a dose a couple of hours ago. From what I understand it's the first in many months."

"Months?" Leliana set her bow on her desk. She moved through the shadows with incredible grace, as if she was a part of them. "He willingly gave it up? Why? Josie arranged supplies for our Templars. Did he not realise how dangerous that is? He could have gone insane… or died."

"I don't know. This was news to me too."

Leliana watched her in that uncanny way she had. It looked like she was staring right into her soul. "I'm uncertain what help I could offer."

"I need to move him."

"Move him? He's not…"

 _Dead?_ "No." Her heart shuddered at the thought. "I put a sleeping draught in his tea. He's in his office. I can't get him into bed alone."

"Why Solana, I never expected you'd need my help getting a strapping man into bed." Leliana said wryly, a flutter of her old smile on her lips.

In another situation, Solana would have appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood, but she was too concerned about the task at hand. "His room is up a ladder."

"Ah, I see. Does it have to be _his_ room?"

"I don't have a room." And getting him down to her tent would be too conspicuous.

"You could always commandeer one."

"No." The way that news traveled in the Inquisition… "No. No one must know. He wouldn't want that."

"Hence your approaching the spymaster," Leliana gave a little bow. "I don't know how much success you and I would have getting him up a ladder. The Commander isn't a small man by any means."

That was true, and Solana wasn't particularly strong. She'd always focused on training her mind, not her body.

"What if I were to rouse some of my agents?"

Solana's immediate instinct was to say no. No more people should know what happened. Cullen was a man of pride. It killed him that even she had seen him so weak and helpless.

"My people are trained to keep secrets," Leliana offered.

A good point. Solana nodded.

Less than an hour later, they hauled the unconscious Commander onto the lumpy bed that was to be his. Herbs were littered under the covers to ward off mice and insects. Solana brushed them aside and tucked her cloak under his head. It was bitter cold, he needed more blankets.

She heard Leliana thank her men and they melted away into the shadows, but Leliana remained. She stood staring up at the starry sky through the hole in the roof for a minute, before joining Solana at Cullen's side.

"I've told them to spread the word he ate something foul. I don't think he'll be up drilling troops at his usual hour."

Solana sank to her haunches and placed a hand on his temple. No fever, but it was damp. "Thank you for the help. I owe you."

 _Oh Cullen… what do I do now? How do I help you?_

"You're in love with him."

Solana jerked upright and stared at her friend. Leliana gave her a small smile. "I'm a student of human nature, remember. That, and I've known you a very long time. "

"It's a good thing you can keep a secret."

"Is there any reason it has to be a secret? He's not exactly in line for the throne."

Solana's mouth felt dry as she turned back to her charge. "I belong to the Wardens."

"The Wardens are off somewhere practicing -."

"But my blood calls to them." She stroked Cullen's cheek. "I told him and he couldn't bear the thought. It drove him to this." She swallowed. "I seem to have a knack for it, driving men to suicide."

"Come now, you're being too hard on yourself."

She released a shaky breath. Leliana placed a hand on her shoulder. "Men will make their own choices. I was there that night. I heard what Alistair said. He didn't die for you, Solana. He died for Ferelden, for the kingdom he loved. He had decided to make that sacrifice long before you even met, by becoming a Warden."

There was nothing to say to that.

"And as for our Commander… lyrium is a greater seductress than any of us could ever hope to be. I've never heard of someone willingly giving it up. The withdrawal can be fatal, if it doesn't drive you to madness first. One could say this was inevitable."

Solana took his hand. Cold and clammy.

"Thank you, Leliana."

"Of course. You're one of my oldest and dearest friends, I am happy to come to your aid whenever you require it… and to talk sense into you."

* * *

It felt like someone was crushing his head, like he had trapped it under a cart or a mill wheel. He groaned his agony into the room, caught between sleep and wakefulness, his entire existence the pain behind his eyes.

Something squeezed his hand.

Where was he? Haven? The Frostbacks? Gradually the memory of the day before returned to him. His weakness, his shame. Solana.

His eyes snapped open. Solana. He'd struck her. She said she'd stay with him on the floor of his office. She'd given him tea. He'd slept in her lap. And now – where was he now?

Somewhere soft and warm. A pigeon hopped across the wooden beams above his head, cooing gently. He blinked, trying to orientate himself. He was in a bed. He shouldn't be in a bed.

"How are you feeling?"

He turned to look at the origin of the voice. Solana shifted into focus. The light was streaming in through the roof behind her. It outlined her in gold, like one of those old tapestries of Andraste.

"Where am I?" his tongue was thick and his throat ached.

She reached for something out of his line of sight. He heard water trickling into a mug. _Thirsty… so thirsty…_

"You're in your room. Here," she passed him the mug. He struggled into a sitting position. His head was still spinning. He downed the water. She refilled the mug and he downed it again.

"How - " His voice was but a croak. He swallowed. "How many people know?"

"Just myself, Leliana and a few of her agents. They won't tell anyone."

"You should find Cassandra. Tell her what happened." He swallowed again. He was too embarrassed to look at her. "She's the only one who knows what I was… what I failed to do. When she approached me in Kirkwall about accompanying her back here and joining the Inquisition, I told her I… It was stupid. She should know."

"Cullen…"

He raked his hands through his hair. His _head_. Was he dying?

Solana's soft hand cupped his face, turned it to look at her. "It wasn't stupid."

"Yes. It was. No one has succeeded before. I've seen stronger men than I fail. Don't patronise me." His words rang harsher than he'd meant but he was struggling to think through the pain.

"I'm sorry. I'll go get her."

He started shivering again when she left. He lay on his back staring at the beams, trying to stave off the nausea and failing. It was an agonizingly long while before he heard swift footsteps enter his office. He tried to straighten out, look a little less wretched, but his limbs wouldn't co-operate.

Cassandra gasped when she saw him. "Commander!"

Her footsteps hurried to his bedside. He didn't want to look at her. He wanted her to answer his questions without him having to ask.

Where was Solana? Had he scared her away? This was his room, not hers. Maybe she'd passed his care to the Seeker. Maybe she wasn't coming back.

Cassandra knelt beside him and placed a hand on his forehead. The gesture was too familiar and he jerked away. It wasn't appropriate for her to fuss over him like this.

"You didn't say he was this bad."

"I thought 'overdose' would provide the necessary detail," Solana responded coolly. She was there, in the room. He hadn't heard her enter. She was somewhere near the ladder, keeping out of Cassandra's way.

"You should have brought this to my attention sooner." Cassandra said, pouring another mug of water.

"I didn't know about your little arrangement."

She was angry, angry with him for keeping it from her. And rightly so. He should have told her.

"You're right. I apologise." He opened his eyes to find Cassandra pinching the bridge of her nose. "Go to the kitchens and bring a jar of charcoal from the fire. However much you can find. And elfroot, for the pain."

He heard Solana leave. Cassandra looked down at him and sighed. "How did this _happen_?"

He wasn't ready to face her questions. He wanted the water she was holding. "Am I going to die?"

"If you were, you probably would have already. Do you _want_ to die?"

"Of course not."

"So why this then, Cullen? I thought you were coping? You said you'd speak to me if you ever felt the need to…"

"It was a moment of weakness."

"A moment that very nearly cost you your life." She sighed again. The sunlight glinted off her armour when she moved. "Did she spur your advances?"

"What?"

"The Warden. Is this some pathetic attempt to garner her sympathy?"

Did everyone know about his feelings? Had they really been that obvious?

"I wasn't looking for sympathy. I was looking for – " relief. _She was going to die._ The memory stabbed at him afresh. There was nothing any of them could do to stop it. "I took the normal amount, nothing more."

"But your body was no longer equipped."

"Yes. I should have gotten rid of that box. I should have left it in the wreckage of Haven. All of this time and I'm still..." he swallowed again. No matter how many times he did, his mouth remained dry. "I'm sorry. I should have been stronger. You have more important things to worry about than this."

The sound of someone climbing up ladder halted his words. She must have run to be back so soon. But even in his delirium, he realised it couldn't possibly be Solana.

" _You_. What are you doing here?" Cassandra spat.

Cullen struggled up on his elbows. It was that strange boy, Cole. The one who'd arrived at Haven moments before Corypheus. He'd been seeing to the wounded on the journey over. Perhaps he was some kind of healer?

"I came to help," he said in that dreamy sing-song way that chilled Cullen to his core. His hat was hiding his eyes, it was impossible to tell what his expression was. If he had one. "She _does_ care for you," he said. "That's why she couldn't tell you. That night by the fire, woodsmoke and the feel of your body on hers. She wanted to."

"What on Thedas are you talking about? Go away." Cassandra waved him off as if he was some a troublesome buzzard.

Cullen knew he had flushed red. "What _are_ you?" He asked. There was no way a mortal being could know those things.

"It's a Demon," Cassandra said.

"I don't know what I am, but I know you're hurting. I want to help."

Cassandra's hand moved to her sword hilt, but Cullen stopped her with a light touch.

Cole continued talking. "The lash of experimental magic. Unnatural, twisting. My body doesn't bend that way! It wasn't your fault you couldn't stop them. You are not a coward for giving in to pain and terror. It's what makes you real. Your men respect that. They follow you out of admiration, not fear. You owe it to them to keep trying."

Cullen felt more than saw Cassandra looking at him. He was trembling again. "I don't think I can."

"You can."

Cole took a step closer. Cassandra tensed.

"I'll make you forget."

"Forget what?"

Cole raised his hand and Cullen flinched.

"What are you doing?" There was warning in Cassandra's voice.

"Forget," Cole said.

"What did you do? What did you take from me!" Cullen demanded.

But Cole had turned his attention to Cassandra. "Forget," he repeated.

And then he was gone. He didn't climb back down the ladder, he simply wasn't there anymore.

"Where did he go?" Cullen asked.

"Who?"

"That boy… Cole. He was there." He pointed to the spot where he'd been standing.

Cassandra shook her head. "You're hallucinating, Commander. Here, drink." She handed him the mug.

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's been leaving comments. I can't figure out how to reply without spamming you with PMs, but I really appreciate all of them! Regarding the pace of the updates: I hope to keep it up. I started posting when I already had a number of chapters written. Personally I hate waiting to find out what happens in a fic without knowing if or when the thing will be finished. I still have a bit of a buffer so I'll keep posting every day as long as I can. It may slow down a bit next week, but I'll do my best to let you know when to expect the next chapter and keep to that deadline :)


	17. Beats still unceasing

Cassandra told Cullen that he had taken lyrium and he had to believe her because he felt awful.

He could remember the terrible moments before with crystal clarity. He'd invited Solana to live with him, heart light, high on two nights filled with her attentions. Then her confession and his cowardice. Then nothing until he was on the floor of his office, retching.

He knew Cole had been there and he knew that Cole had made him forget. But was taking lyrium all he'd forgotten?

The rest of the afternoon was hazy. He'd slept and when he'd woken Cassandra had fed him charcoal and elfroot. He knew Solana must have brought it from the kitchens, but she was no longer there. The charcoal was bitter and it stuck in his throat, but between that and the water, the shaking stopped. The elfroot had taken away his pain.

He had tossed in tormented sleep and each time he'd woken, he'd expected he might find Solana at his side, but instead it was the Seeker who poured cool mugs of water from a pitcher and bid him rest. When evening came, he was able to sit. He was also ravenous. He wanted to go down to the hall to eat with everyone else, but Cassandra insisted she'd bring something.

He didn't ask where Solana was. It was selfish to want her there when he'd treated her the way he had. It was selfish to want her at all.

He managed to sleep again after his meal, splintered dreams that he couldn't remember upon waking, panting, in cold sweat. Cassandra was still at his bedside, candle burned low. Her head was back against the wall. She'd fallen asleep.

The room felt claustrophobic. He'd spent too long in the bed. Quietly, so as not to wake his sentinel, he dressed. A walk would do him good.

The ramparts were icy cold but the sky was bright. So far from a town or any other civilisation, the stars were like glittering jewels. Or perhaps everything simply looked more beautiful because he'd been so near death? The air was fresh and crisp in his lungs. It was quiet.

The only thing missing was _her_.

He'd turned back to return to his quarters when a small figure on the wall caught his eye.

It was the unmistakable silhouette of Cole. He was perched on the outermost battlements, feet dangling, hat low over his eyes.

Cullen approached him cautiously. "The height doesn't frighten you?"

The boy glanced at him, as if he'd been aware of his presence all along. His skin was almost translucent in the moonlight.

"Very little frightens me"

"What memory did you take from me, earlier?" No reason to delay asking what he needed to.

"Relief."

Cullen waited for him to say more, but he seemed more interested in the snow flurries so far down below him.

"You made me forget the satisfaction that the lyrium gave me?" he guessed.

"Five whole minutes before the pain." Cole provided.

"I appreciate the thought but… that's not how the addiction works. Regardless of whether or not my mind has fond memories of the stuff, my body will crave it all the same."

There were so many more painful memories he could have taken, why that one?

Cole looked at him, his eyes pale and cold as two glass marbles. "Those memories make you who you are, Commander. I couldn't take that from you." His attention moved back to the frozen landscape "Puppies, no begging. Not Samson, a peacekeeper."

"You're making little sense."

The boy fell completely silent.

Cullen sighed. "Well, then. Good evening, I suppose." He turned back towards his office.

"Commander?" Cole was still looking out over the wall as if he hadn't spoken, but his voice cut across the still night. "She needs you to be strong."

* * *

"Mind if I sit?"

Solana shook her head. She didn't even look at the man who slid into the seat beside her. It was late, but the tavern was still open. The bard had given up singing, her voice must have been tired. But she was still strumming her lute and Solana suspected she would keep strumming it until people stopped tipping.

"I'll have another please," she tilted her stein at the barkeep. He nodded and got the bottle down again.

The man beside her sighed. "You don't think you might have had enough?"

He must have been looking at the line of assorted mugs and tankards in front of her.

"Clearly you haven't heard about famous Warden drinking prowesss." She responded. "There was one man who could drink so much ale that… that…" How had the story gone? She couldn't remember.

The man cleared his throat. She finally turned to look at him. The Warden insignia glinted on his armour. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of it. It was partly obscured by a big, black beard.

"I've heard of you. I think. Redcliffe?"

Max had gone to Redcliffe to fetch him while she'd been training mages. In everything that had followed, she'd completely forgotten about him.

"And I've certainly heard of you. Name's Blackwall." He offered her his hand. She stared at it, not sure what to do with it. Eventually he lowered it.

Her drink arrived and she took a long swig. "You also here to stop the Calling?"

His bushy eyebrows rose.

"Oh, I don't mean in the Inquisition." She made a wide-armed gesture with her stein, sloshing liquid across the bar. "Oops, sorry. Obviously you're with the Inquisition because of what's happening with the others."

"The others… yes."

"I meant at the tavern, at this hour. It's the only thing that softens it at this stage. But I'll make a pact with you. You don't go to the Deep Roads and I won't either? Okay? We'll stop each other."

"All Wardens end up at the Deep Roads." He provided, unhelpfully.

"Yes, I _know_ that. But I mean _now_."

He shook his head, "From the look of it, I'd say you're not going anywhere tonight."

"Right you are." Another glug of the bitter liquid. The burning in her throat reminded her of lyrium potion. No, not a train of thought she wanted to pursue.

"Okay, I think you've had enough." Blackwall gently took the mug from her hand. The room was spinning. He put a pile of coin on the table. "This should cover it."

The barkeep nodded in acknowledgement.

"I can buy my own drinks," she said on a hiccup. "I'm going to stay here, if it's all the same to you."

"It's not, come on." He took her by the elbow and helped her to stand.

There was raucous laughter from the floor above. "That sounds like fun." She wanted to go join them, but he held her firm.

"Where am I taking you?"

"You're not taking me. You're leaving me. I'm fine."

"Pretty thing like you in this condition? Many a man would take advantage."

"Are you flirting with me?"

He sighed again. His expression was difficult to read beneath the beard but she thought he might have been annoyed.

"I took a vow long ago to help the helpless," he said. "I'm relatively certain that this counts. Come on."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her to the door.

"I took that vow too. I think. In death, victory? No wait it's the other way around."

"Different vow."

"You took more than one vow?"

"Something like that, come on."

The air outside was so cold it was painful. It stung her skin and it felt like her eyeballs were one blink away from being frozen over.

"Where have they put you?" Blackwall asked.

"Who?"

"Your quarters, where do I find them?"

"My… a tent. I can get there myself."

"They put _you_ in a tent?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"No, I just thought…. Well you're the Hero aren't you? _The_ Grey Warden? You single-handedly stopped the Fifth Blight."

She pushed away from him. "Not single-handedly. Don't lionize me with a stolen title."

His large brow furrowed. "Stolen?"

She hiccuped again. The alcohol was beginning to turn her stomach. "It's that way," she pointed. Then thought better of it. "No, I think it's that way"

He closed the space between them and took hold of her arm. "I'm in the stables. It would be easier for me to take you there. Warmer, too."

She looked up into his eyes. "What are you asking?"

"Just what I said."

"Because I'm seeing someone."

His beard smiled. "I wasn't trying to proposition you." He started guiding down the stairs that lead to the lower bailey. "Don't misunderstand, you are a very impressive person. But if I was seeking that kind of comfort, I would do so when you were sober."

"I should go check on him."

"In this condition?"

"I need to see if he's alright. Cassandra said I should give him space. How long is space?"

"I believe space is long enough to wait until morning."

They'd reached the courtyard and the barn was straight ahead. She was trying to figure out the easiest way to get to his office from here. It wasn't far away, just up onto the ramparts. "I think… I think I love him." She said.

"That's very nice," Blackwall said, urging her forward.

"He's so kind and just and he really wants to help make the world a better place. I look at him and all the problems, all of this, it doesn't seem so insur... insurmountable anymore."

"I'm happy for you, but I'm not sure you want to be telling me these things. Let's get you to bed."

"But _you_ understand. You understand more than anyone else. I can't. I can't be a Warden and what he wants. How can I be with him while my entire being calls to my duty? There's no future. It's wrong to lead him on. I should never have even kissed him, Let alone..."

"Okay, too much information. Inside you go." He placed a hand on the small of her back and pushed her forward, through the barn doors into the warmth beyond.

Cullen moved out of the shadows that clung to the ramparts near the entrance to his office. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He'd been on his way back to bed when he'd heard them coming. He'd stayed to check that Blackwall hadn't meant her any harm.

He swallowed. So that's how things were, then. She returned his feelings – that knowledge should have lightened his heart, even just a little shouldn't it? She returned his feelings but there was no future. The blighted Grey Wardens had ensured that. There was no point picturing them building a life after all this.

Cole had said he needed to be strong, so he would be. He clenched his teeth. He wouldn't make her explain. He'd be the one to end it.


	18. Hope abandoned

The morning sun dappled the wooden floor as Cullen entered the barn.

It smelled of hay and manure. It was a rich, earthy scent that reminded him of the house where he's grown up. They'd had a small property, too small to raise proper horses, but they'd had a little pony at one stage. His sisters had doted on that animal. He'd helped his father construct a pen and rough shelter for it and they'd taken turns with the chore of caring for it. Which, as far as his sisters were concerned, meant he and his brother got the honour of mucking out the shelter while they took it upon themselves to feed it and see to its grooming.

Solana would have been at home there. He lurked by the door, watching as she brushed the mane of one of the Inquisitor's fine steeds. She was wearing an apron and gloves, her hair swept up into a messy bun. She was so beautiful. Even here, like this.

Delaying wouldn't make what he had to do any easier. He cleared his throat.

She turned and her face lit up when she saw him. She opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to remember they weren't alone and, with a furtive glance at Blackwall who was sitting whittling in the far corner, said only, "You're looking well."

He nodded. "Can we talk?"

"Of course." She wiped her hands on her apron and called to Blackwall that she'd only be a minute.

Cullen followed her out the back of the barn.

"I was going to come check on you as soon as I was done here," she said. "I didn't expect you to be up and about already."

"Taking up a new trade?" He asked her.

"I owed him a favour. How are you feeling?"

There was a quiet spot under a tree where they could speak without being overheard. The light caught her hair and Cullen could see the multitude of colours that made up what he'd always thought of as red. The green apron suited her. _Maker, he wanted her._

"I've been better. But I will survive."

"Cassandra said it should be simple to arrange a supply for you."

"It would, but I told her not to."

Solana stared at him. The breeze caught at her hair. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"Not entirely."

"Cullen, you could die."

He turned from her, drawing as much cold air as he could into his lungs. This would be easier if she wasn't looking at him like that. "I'm aware of the risks."

"Sorry, I didn't mean –"

"Don't apologise. I… you were honest with me yesterday. It's time I'm honest with you." He took hold of the tree trunk. He wasn't feeling as steady on his feet as he let on, but he didn't want to appear weak. "Forgive me, this is difficult to say."

She took his hand. "Take your time. Do you want to go somewhere where you can sit?"

He shook his head. He had to do this now or he never would. Her hand felt so good clasping his. He needed to focus. He gently freed himself.

"You know, I wanted to be a Templar since I was eight years old? I longed to be a part of something greater, to do good. Taking that first dose of lyrium on the day I was initiated… it was the realisation of a dream. After that, they give you regular doses. Within the Order it's normal, routine. You don't realise how badly you need it until… I mean you hear stories but… the first time I realised how dependent I was, was when the Ferelden Circle fell. The days they kept me there without it, the withdrawal alone was torture. You saw it for yourself. I wasn't even sure if you were real."

"You don't have to explain," she said.

"Yes, yes I do. Afterwards… I should have left. They had no business keeping me in that place. But they did. For two whole years. And I didn't have any recourse. It was only when… there was an incident. Due to my exemplary record and exceptional circumstances they finally approved my transfer to Kirkwall."

"What happened?" she asked.

He couldn't bear to look at her. He closed his eyes. "I nearly…" there was no reason to hide the truth from her. If she started hating him, that would only make things easier for her. "I nearly killed three apprentices. I thought they were meeting to practice blood magic. My superiors wouldn't listen to my concerns, so I followed them. When they started the ritual… let's just say they're lucky there were others of my order near enough to intervene."

"And _were_ they practicing blood magic?"

"No. An experimental communication spell, I believe. The youngest was missing home."

"Maker."

He nodded. He was glad he couldn't see her face.

"In Kirkwall I was given a promotion, I was somewhere new. I thought that's what I wanted. The Knight-Commander was strict but, I thought, fair. At least at first." Another deep breath. His head was still aching. He massaged his temple. "But her methods became more and more stringent. I didn't approve, but what could I do? I couldn't leave. I couldn't be like Samson, strung out and insane. I stayed for the lyrium."

"From what I hear, it's just as well you did."

He spun on her. "Don't you see? It's a leash. It's a stranglehold. As long as I need lyrium, I can't… I can't be the person I want. I have to serve my masters, whomever they may be. I don't want that anymore."

He could see she was taken aback by his tone. Her eyes had gone wide. _Good. Let her fear him. Let her hate him._

"And I can't… I can't ask you to go through this with me."

"Cullen…"

"No. I won't. I've already…" the cut on her head was still red and angry. It sickened him to see it. "I've already hurt you. I can't risk doing it again."

"I don't need you to protect me."

"I've made up my mind." His chest ached. He couldn't meet her gaze. "I won't put you at risk. Not for anything. And if you do have limited time, you deserve better."

"This is quite a change from us sharing a room."

Maker, she knew just what to say to twist the dagger.

"I didn't know how close to the precipice I was."

"Are you sure you don't want time –"

"Solana, please." His voice cracked traitorously. "I've made up my mind," he repeated.

"Okay."

He dared to look at her. She was still, the wind whipping at her skirts and hair. No expression, as if in shock. He'd done that. He felt the urge to take her in his arms and kiss away everything he'd said. But that would only delay the inevitable. She'd said it herself, there was no future.

"I… I should get back." She indicated over her shoulder.

All he could do was nod.

* * *

There was a small grove not far outside of Skyhold's gates. It was set against the hard rock of the mountain, circled by snow-laden trees. The wind whipped through the branches, making them clatter and sigh. The Frostbacks loomed overhead, stoic and beautiful.

"Death and damnation!"

A nearby boulder splintered, sending forth hundred fragments. Solana glared at it, chest heaving. She spun and struck at it again, letting loose a string of curses, each more creative than the last, and each accompanied by a blast from her staff, until the rock was a jagged wreck.

"I'd ask if something were the matter, but that would seem redundant." Solana turned. Celeste was standing behind her in fresh robes and carrying a basket.

Solana wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. "How did you find me?"

"I followed the shouting."

Solana cringed. She'd specifically ventured far enough from Skyhold that she thought no one would hear her.

Celeste chuckled. She held out the basket. "I brought food."

"I'm afraid I'm not in the best of moods."

"Really? I hadn't guessed." Celeste set down the basket and walked over to the rock. "You know, if you leave this here like this, someone is eventually going to put it down as a mysterious landmark." She waved a hand and the splinters of stone rose to reform mid-air. With a look of intense focus, she put them all back in place, so the rock was as good as if Solana had never been there.

"Your magic is coming along," Solana commented. _That was putting it mildly._

"Thanks to you."

Solana went over to the basket and peeked inside. Dry figs and cured meat. "Where'd you get this?"

"Kitchens. I work there now."

"What? Since when?"

Celeste smiled brightly. "It seems Commander Cullen put a good word in for me after the avalanche. Saving his life seems to have put- Solana?"

Her expression must have changed in reaction to that name. She pressed her eyes closed. "Nothing. That's good. I was worried they'd throw you back in jail."

Celeste stooped to open the basket, withdrawing a picnic blanket of all things. "Have you seen the jail? Half of it's fallen off a cliff. I think they're going to save it for special cases only." She waved a hand and the snow cleared from a small spot.

Solana stared. "You do yourself a discredit. I'd say you're special."

Celeste shook out the blanket and put it down. "You're too kind. Shall we?"

She began packing out the food and Solana joined her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. She was surprised to find the ground beneath the blanket had been dried by that spell. "Are you going to tell me where you've been studying?"

"That depends." Celeste withdrew a bottle of wine. "Are you going to tell me what's got you destroying things?"

"Pass that bottle here, and I just might."

Half an hour later, Solana was lying on her back staring up through the trees at the sky and hugging the near-empty bottle to her chest.

"Thing is, he says he's distancing himself because he doesn't want to hurt me. But I know that's not it. It's because of how I hurt him. You didn't see his face. And he was right, he was completely right when he said I should have known better. Alistair died and I stopped functioning. How could I willingly do that to Cullen? What was I _thinking_?"

Celeste was leaning against a tree trunk, chewing on a piece of cured meat. "I don't think you _were_ thinking."

"No, I suppose not."

"I mean really, Cullen? A Templar?"

"He's not a Templar anymore."

"Still."

Solana rolled over and rested her head on her arms. "I'm surprised you're not more concerned with my deep, dark, secret."

"You mean Cullen's not your deep, dark secret?"

"He's blonde."

"Is he? I always thought he was more of a redhead."

"No, definitely blonde."

"I suppose you would know." Celeste reached for the wine. She took a swig from the bottle. "As for your other secret, Fiona told me about the Calling."

"Fiona?" Solana raised her head.

Celeste nodded. "She's agreed to take me on as an apprentice. Which answers your question about who's teaching me."

"I'm impressed."

"I was going to go back to Denerim, you know? But I think… maybe it's worth hanging around. The Inquisition is doing things. Good things. It might be nice to be on the right side of history."

Solana smiled in response, but something didn't seem quite right.

 _Good of you to keep the secret after so long…_

That's what Fiona had said when she'd mentioned The Calling. So why would she have gone and told Celeste about it?

* * *

A/N Thanks again for all of the lovely comments. It really means so much to know that you're enjoying this! Sorry about all the angst. What can I say? They both have issues!


	19. Fire is her water

A/N: Special Sunday bumper edition. I thought about splitting it, but couldn't find a good place. Consider this my apology for the last chapter being so short and angsty!

Spoiler warning for that thing in Blackwall's storyline. I don't give it away, but he pretty much does.

* * *

Every single mouth in the Herald's Rest fell silent. Even the bard stopped playing.

Varric cleared his throat. "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea."

The dark-haired man in the doorway next to him was silhouetted by the evening light. He glared at the dwarf. "You said no one would recognise me."

"I said it was _unlikely_ that anyone would recognise you."

Solana, who'd swung around on her stool at the bar to see what had caused everyone to stop talking, cocked her head. The gesture must have caught Varric's eye because he waved at her and hurried across the room, with his friend in tow.

"Hero! Meet the Champion. Champion, meet the Hero."

Either Solana was drunker than she'd thought or that still didn't make much sense. "Your name's Champion?" she asked as the man stood awkwardly beside her while Varric ordered them a round of drinks. The bard started singing again and conversation resumed.

"No, my name's Garret." He smiled.

"What?" Varric looked shocked. "You know, I don't think I've ever heard you use that name."

"It is my name." He offered Solana his hand. "Garret Hawke. And you're The Warden, I imagine"

"Am _a_ Warden." She waved a hand lazily. "There's another one around here somewhere. He likes to watch I don't fall off the stool."

Varric and Hawke exchanged a look.

"Wait." Solana narrowed her eyes. "I know you. You're the mage rebel. Kirkwall Chantry."

Hawke chuckled. "That was Anders. I had nothing to do with that."

"Does Cul… does he know you're here?"

Hawke looked at her blankly. Varric sighed. "She means Commander Cullen."

Solana cringed.

"So, things not going so well with you two then?" Varric asked.

She didn't answer, just picked up her stein and took a long drink.

"In answer to your question, no." Hawke said. "But I believe he'll know soon enough. I just spoke to your Inquisitor. I heard you reported some trouble with the Wardens?"

She reached the bottom of the mug. She squinted at it. She thought there'd been more.

"Now might not be the best time to talk to her about that," Varric said, under his breath.

"No, I'm fine," she insisted. "The Wardens blood magic old gods. Inquisition said they'd help, but then archdemon. So no help yet. Why?"

Hawke stared at her. She was opening her mouth to ask why when their drinks arrived. She reached for hers, but a hand snaked around from behind her to stop her. She groaned, without looking at who was standing there. "May I present Warden Blackwall," she said. "He can probably make more sense than me."

He introduced himself. He didn't seem to recognise who Hawke was either which made her feel a little better.

"I don't know how he stays sober," she said.

"I have to, don't I? Otherwise you might take yourself off to the Deep Roads."

"The Deep Roads?" Hawke queried. "Why?"

She sensed Blackwall shrug. "Don't know. She keeps saying that."

"The Deep Roads isn't exactly a pleasant place," Hawke said.

"I know. Been there. Can I please have another drink?" The Calling had been spectacularly grating that day. Usually the alcohol dulled the pain more than this. Maybe the pain was particularly bad, or maybe her legendary Warden alcohol tolerance had finally decided to kick in.

"No." Blackwall said.

Varric chuckled into his ale.

* * *

Solana sat up and whacked her head on a low beam.

"Ow!"

Her head felt like it was being eaten from the inside by hungry nugs. She hoped that she was tremendously hungover and this wasn't just The Calling. Her mouth tasted like ash and felt like sandpaper, so that was a good sign.

She felt her way over the hay bale. Her foot got stuck and she tumbled with complete lack of grace onto the floor of the loft.

 _Thump._ "Ow!"

"You okay up there?" Blackwall called. What time was it? By the horrible brightness coming through the barn door, it was already late morning. Her stomach churned.

"Define, 'okay'?"

He chuckled. "How much do you remember from last night?"

She stood and tentatively felt her way downstairs. He was busy with his latest woodwork project, a gryphon rocking horse. His eyes didn't leave the layer of varnish he was applying as she gingerly approached.

"I remember Varric introducing his friend. His friend asked something about the Wardens. I don't know what I said… things go pretty dark after that."

Blackwall shook his head, but he was smiling good-naturedly. "You wrestled me for a mug of ale, downed half of it before I could stop you and then promptly passed out. Between us, the Champion and I got you back here safe. Not your most discrete exit, I'm afraid."

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Sorry."

"You know I don't mind. I'd rather be there than let you alone."

She shook her head. "How do you do it?"

His eyes rose to hers. "Do what?"

"How do you cope? You must have some kind of coping mechanism for it? You're always so calm. I wouldn't be able to tell anything was wrong by looking at you."

His eyes narrowed as if he wasn't quite sure what she was talking about.

"The Calling?" she prompted.

"The…" He cleared his throat. "I do not fear the Calling… and worrying about it only gives it power." He nodded decisively.

She snorted. "And I was told I had an iron will."

A head appeared around the barn door. "Am I interrupting? You said I should come back later."

Hawke. Solana gave him a small wave.

He strode into the room. "Ah, I see you're up. Do we need to redo introductions?"

"No I… I remember you. You're a little less blurry than my first impression."

He laughed. "Possibly less charming too. You kept telling me how charming I was on the way up here."

"I believe she was talking to me," Blackwall said. His eyes sparkled. He was enjoying this.

"How can I help you?" she asked Hawke.

"I was hoping we could go somewhere to talk. Blackwall, you're welcome to join us. It's a matter of some sensitivity. I'd prefer we talk somewhere private."

"That sounds ominous," Solana said.

"Oh, it is."

"Now I'm intrigued."

She lead Hawke up to the kitchens. Not because it was private, but because she knew there would be food there and a cup of something to help with this headache. What day was it? Would Celeste be there? People kept stopping to stare at Hawke. He nodded to them politely. It reminded her of when she'd first arrived at Haven. He seemed to take it more in his stride.

She was in luck. Not only was Celeste on duty, but she had kept some sausages aside for Solana from the morning meal.

"Word is you had a rough night," she said as she handed Solana the plate.

"Word travels exceptionally fast in this place."

"It's almost midday."

She grunted, accepted the plate and pushed open the door to the hall. She heard soft laughter behind her and knew that Hawke and Celeste where sharing their amusement. She'd forgotten to introduce them.

That could come later.

Across the hall, she shouldered into the little room where Trevelyan kept his collection of rare wines from throughout Thedas. Everything was caked in dust. She picked up a bottle, something about Wardens, and uncorked it with her teeth.

"This is quite the collection," Hawke mused. "I have a friend who'd appreciate it."

"I don't think Max even drinks," she said. "He just likes collecting things." She took a swig, unapologetically. Maker, this stuff was foul. It tasted like someone had fermented a mushroom and then mixed it with vitriol.

"Are you sure you should –"

"Don't worry, he won't notice."

"I meant more considering you only just woke up."

"Oh. No, this is just to take the edge off." She offered him a smile. "Don't worry, I won't give you a repeat of last night." She sat down on a barrel and balanced her plate on her knees. "So, we're alone. What would you like to discuss?"

Hawke leaned back against the wall with his arms folded. "Varric said you've seen the Grey Wardens recently?"

"How recent is recent?"

"They've been disappearing for months now."

"Yes, they've been going to the Deep Roads. A number of them have banded together with some hair-brained scheme to end all Blights forever."

"How long have you known?" His tone was vaguely accusatory. She didn't have time or patience for that.

"I've known since shortly after I heard the call myself."

"The call?"

"To the Deep Roads." If Fiona was telling her apprentices, then there was no harm in telling someone called The Champion, was there? She couldn't think straight. She took a bite out of one of the sausages. This could go one of two ways. Either the oily food would make her feel immediately better, or she'd need to make a very quick exit.

"I don't follow," Hawke said.

She spoke around her food. "Wardens are cursed to go to the Deep Roads after about thirty years," she gestured with her hands. "But now something is making us all want to go. And when I say want I mean _want_."

"That's what Blackwall meant last night when he said if he didn't keep an eye on you you'd go to the Deep Roads."

She took another swig of the foul alcohol to wash down the sausage and grimaced. "He's exaggerating. I'm more likely to go when I'm not drinking. The drink lessons the pain a bit."

"This call hurts you?"

"Have you ever mistakenly scratched a stone surface, or withdrawn a weapon and it makes that noise that echoes through your skull and sets your teeth on edge?"

"Yes, I know the sound you mean."

She nodded. "Then you understand. It's like that but twisted into strange music. And it's not just a reverberation either. It's voices calling out horrible commands that you can only half understand. And nightmares. Nightmares that make you wish for death. Which is what they're designed to do, I suppose."

"Designed? The Wardens are cursed on purpose?"

Solana shrugged. "Centuries ago. I know very little of it. I was told it was the Taint that caused us to die. I suppose we do eventually succumb to it and this Calling means we go down fighting. It forces our deaths to have purpose."

Hawke frowned thoughtfully. She let him think it over while she finished the rest of the sausages. She did offer him one, but he declined.

Eventually he said, "this does fit with my theory."

She raised her eyebrows. "I'm interested to hear it."

"I've fought Corypheus before."

She paused her chewing.

"In fact, I _killed_ Corypheus before. I don't know how he survived, but when Varric said he was the one who attacked Haven, I knew I had to find out. "

"How does this fit in with the Wardens?"

"When I encountered him before, he was being kept captive by them. He could somehow use their connection to the darkspawn to influence them."

"Influence them, like blood magic?"

"Precisely. Mind control."

She clutched the edges of the plate on her lap. "You think that's what's happening to me? To the others?"

"Not outside the realms of possibility."

"He wants the Wardens to destroy themselves before they can oppose him."

"That's what I'm thinking."

* * *

Solana pushed open the doors of the war room, knowing she'd probably had more of that foul alcohol than she'd meant to. The bottle was light in her hand.

Shit, it was still in her hand.

Oh well, that hardly mattered now. "Mind if I join?"

The War Council stared at her. Eventually Max cleared his throat. "No, no of course, you're always welcome."

He moved aside to make room for her.

"As I was saying," Josephine glanced down at her papers. "The empress is holding peace talks under the auspices of a grand ball. Every power in Orlais will be there. It's the perfect place for a -"

"Seriously?"

They were all looking at her again. Leliana's brow was furrowed with concern. Josephine looked shocked. Cullen… stoic, she thought. She couldn't look at him for long. "You're seriously discussing attending a ball?"

"We're discussing stopping an assassination plot." Max provided. Was he sounding annoyed? She'd never heard him annoyed before.

Ah, the alcohol. She'd forgotten about it again. She put it on the table, knocking aside one of their markers. "Sorry, Max. I'll replace it. I just needed…" What had she been saying?

That's right. She leaned on the table, looking down at the familiar map. Her eyes automatically fell on lake Calenhad, the location of the only home she'd ever known. "When I joined the Inquisition I had one request. Wardens, blood magic. You all remember."

"We haven't forgotten," Max assured her.

She ignored him. "I've been speaking to the Champion. He has an interesting theory."

"The Champion?" Cullen cut in.

Now all the attention in the room moved to him.

"The Champion. Of Kirkwall. He's here?"

Leliana started laughing. Cassandra sighed dramatically.

"Oh, Commander. You really are oblivious," Leliana said. "Even Solas made a comment about it this morning, and he hasn't left that study of his for days."

Solana risked a glance up at Cullen. He'd gone sheet pale. Her heart gave a painful twang. She needed to focus.

"Hawke says that he's faced Corypheus before. And he was using mind control, on Wardens."

Leliana immediately sobered. "Mind control?"

"Yes." Solana purposefully looked at Cullen. "Making them see and _hear_ things."

He jerked. "Hear things?"

Good, he understood. She nodded.

"So, your Warden problem is related to Corypheus after all," Leliana said.

" _Now_ is it important enough to warrant your attention?"

She shouldn't have said it. It was cruel and ungrateful. They may well have made good on their promise to help had Haven not fallen. Still, a ball?

Max placed a hand on her arm, startling her. "You're right. We should have investigated before now. Did the Champion say anything more?"

She blinked at him. His cooperation had been easier to gain than she'd expected. "He has a Warden contact who left them more recently than I. Said he heard word they were headed to the Western Approach to perform some ritual. It has to be the blood magic one, the one I told you about."

He nodded. "This does take priority. Cullen, how long before we can be there?"

"With an army? Over a month."

"We don't have that kind of time," Solana said. She focused on the Inquisitor.

"What if it's just a few of us? We can take the fastest steeds," he suggested.

"A few of…" Cullen challenged. "Against blood magic and demons… are you certain that's wise?"

"I've fought demons before," Solana said.

"As have I."

The voice behind her made her turn. Hawke had opened the war room door, perhaps concerned that she'd passed out again before delivering his plea to the Council.

"Count me in." Varric stepped out from behind him.

"That's settled then," Max said. "The four of us will ride out at dawn. Leliana, send word to Scout Harding. She's in the Exalted Plains isn't she? She should be able to get there before us, set up camp, do some initial reconnaissance."

"As you wish, Inquisitor."

"I still don't think this is wise," Cullen said. "Solana."

The sound of her name from his lips pulled her attention back to him. His expression looked pained. "Hero. The Western Approach… it's bordered by an abyss. They say it leads straight…" he cleared his throat. "Straight to the Deep Roads."

He held her gaze.

"You're concerned the Wardens will unleash darkspawn?" Max asked, but Solana knew that's not what he'd meant at all. The Calling would be so much harder to resist when there was an entrance to the Deep Roads so near.

"I recognise the risks," she said to Cullen.

His gaze fell, his shoulders sagged. He took a deep breath and expelled it. "I see."

Dammit, she couldn't leave him like that. "Saving the Wardens is what I came here to do, Cullen."

"Yes, of course." His eyes were focused on the table. He didn't look at her.

She reached for the bottle of alcohol again and took a swig.

Max rubbed his hands together. "Right, if we're all agreed, I think we should go and ready ourselves. We have a long journey ahead of us."

"Andraste preserve me," Cullen muttered.

* * *

Cullen watched as they filed out of the room one-by-one. Cassandra's hand slipped into Trevelyan's when they thought no one was looking. Cullen swallowed. He couldn't do that. He couldn't give the woman he loved a night of comfort before her long and difficult journey.

Did she even intend to return?

What was waiting for her here after all? What reason did she have to-

He was slammed bodily against the wall. There was no chance to reach for his weapon. An arm pressed on his larynx, cutting off his air and the cold steel of a knife twinkled threateningly beneath his chin.

"What did you _do_ to her?" Leliana growled.

"Do to her!" he choked.

"Don't play innocent. I know the two of you were in a relationship. Now she's become… this. What. Did. You. Do?"

Solana hadn't looked good. Aside from being quite obviously drunk, there had been hay in her hair, and she was thinner, so thin as to appear gaunt. It had shocked him too.

He pushed Leliana away, gambling that she wouldn't really slit his throat. "I didn't do anything."

She stumbled backwards, baring the knife in front of her. "If I find you mistreated her…"

He buried his head in his hands. He didn't have the strength for this. His head was killing him. And his heart… his heart… "You should know me better than that."

"Sometimes the most disgusting monsters hide behind pretty smiles."

She was still baring the knife. _Sweet Andraste_. "I love her," he declared. "I would rather throw myself on my own blade than see her like this."

That gave Leliana pause. She knew he wasn't prone to dramatics. She blinked at him and lowered the knife. "What's going on?"

"She's sick."

"I can see that."

"She's dying."

Leliana didn't move. "Explain."

He raked a hand through his hair. "It's some Warden thing. A curse. Incurable. She knew she was dying when she arrived in Haven. She kept it from us because there is no way we can help her."

Leliana spun from him, groaning. " _That's_ what she meant. That night in your quarters. She tried to tell me. _Idiot_."

"Don't be too hard on yourself. Apparently they're forbidden from speaking of it."

"No, I meant you."

"Me?"

Leliana was pacing the room, shaking her head. "She tells you she's dying and you run off and, what, try to beat her to it?"

"I wasn't trying to kill myself."

"That's beside the point."

He leaned on the table, glaring down at the map. "I know I should have handled it better."

"Damn right. And now, what? You're watching her drown her sorrows in alcohol?"

He pressed his eyes closed. No, he hadn't been watching her. He'd been lost in his own private nightmare, the days blending into each other as he struggled from one moment to the next. The first time he'd given up lyrium, the initial two weeks of torture had occurred on the ship from Kirkwall. He'd spent them locked in a cabin, wretched but secluded. Now he'd been doing his best to appear normal. He'd done everything in his power to prevent his men from seeing how his skin burned like it was being cut by a thousand razor blades whenever he was out in the sun training them. He'd spent most nights huddled in the corner of his office like a frightened child, plagued by terrors he knew were in his own mind and then he'd heaved himself to his feet to continue with the day's work as if nothing at all untoward had transpired. He'd been focused on surviving, on getting through the worst of the withdrawal quietly and with as much dignity as he could.

"She has enough to worry about without worrying about me."

"Worrying about you? _You_ should be worrying about _her_. A few moments ago you were claiming to love her."

"I do love her!"

"Then man up and prove it." Leliana glared at him. "What was your plan, Cullen? Just let her whither away?"

"I didn't have a plan. I don't have a plan. It's incurable."

"Oh, I'm not talking about curing her. I'm talking about helping her through this. If I had known. If she had told me." Leliana spun away again, growling her frustration into the room. "But she didn't confide in me. She didn't confide in anyone. She confided in _you_. And you abandoned her."

"I didn't abandon her!"

 _Yes,_ he realised. _Yes he had_. He'd had good reason. It had seemed like a good reason at the time. He heaved in air.

"That night, before she went to you, I struck her."

Leliana turned back to him, eyes narrowed. "Purposefully?"

"Of course not. But I couldn't risk losing control again. I have to give up lyrium. But I don't know what will happen, what I'll become in the process. Risking my own life is one thing. But having her rely on me while I –"

"Coward."

"Excuse me?"

"You're a coward. You can't bear the thought of losing her, so you'd rather pretend you're keeping her at an arm's length to protect her. You're pathetic."

Leliana drove the knife down into the table and left the room, letting the door slam closed behind her.

Cullen focused on the map. He read the names of the rivers Solana would be crossing and the towns she'd be passing through on her journey, but between the way he was shaking and the way the letters kept blurring together, it was an exercise in futility.


	20. Before dawn's first light

Solana was packing the last supplies into her saddle bags as the grey light of dawn crept over Skyhold.

"Awake bright and early." Celeste approached, carrying a cup of tea. "Here I thought I'd have to drench you in cold water."

"Again?"

Celeste cringed, passing Solana the cup. She accepted it gratefully. Skyhold was cold even in the middle of the day. At this time of the morning, her breath came in clouds of steam and her cheeks were numb. The cup was warm and comforting, even if the smell of whatever concoction Celeste had given her turned her stomach.

"Hangover cure?"

Celeste nodded.

"Thanks."

Solana held her nose and downed it. Sweet Andraste, it was vile.

"Did Commander Cullen find you?"

She choked on the tea. Coughing, spluttering, struggling to get in air she asked, "Cullen?"

"He came looking for you in the kitchens. I suggested he check the stables."

"I slept in my tent last night."

"I don't know which part of that sentence is more surprising."

Solana had taken a sleeping draught to ensure a good night's rest. It hadn't prevented the nightmares, but she was certainly feeling more sober than she had in days. She wasn't sure that was a good thing. She wiped her mouth and coughed again. Why would Cullen come looking for her? She hadn't spoken to him alone since… since he'd made up his mind not to be with her.

"Did he say what he wanted?"

Celeste shook her head. "He seemed quite distressed."

"Probably wanted to warn me off going again."

"Good morning!" Trevelyan came around the other side of the barn, smiling broader than anyone had a right to smile at this hour. "Ready to venture forth?"

"Nearly!" Solana called to him. She hoped some of his enthusiasm wore off over the next weeks or she might not make it as far as the Deep Roads.

"It's nice that he cares," Celeste said softly, returning to their previous topic.

"I thought that you weren't fond of him?"

"I'm not. On principle, you understand. But as far as Templars go, I suppose he's not too bad."

"That means you'll do as I asked?"

Celeste rolled her eyes. "Only because I owe you my life."

"Thank you."

Solana heard Trevelyan making more energetic greetings and peered around her horse to see Varric and Hawke caught up in his conversation. Hawke spotted her and waved.

"I'd better join them," she said to Celeste.

The mage gave her a hug. "Good luck. I hope you manage to… you know."

"Not die?"

"That too." She offered a shaky smile. "You will come back, won't you?"

"It depends on whether Max is going to make me attend that blighted ball."

"I'm serious."

Solana sighed. "I don't know. If I can stop the Wardens, I may be needed there."

"They could join the Inquisition."

"They don't do allegiance."

What was unsaid was what would happen if she couldn't stop them. She didn't know.

Celeste gave her another hug. "Take care, okay? No heroics."

"It _is_ in my title."

"I mean it, Solana. No tearing off trying to kill archdemons or single-handedly end the apocalypse. I won't be there to protect you this time."

She laughed. "I'll try." Trevelyan called her name. "I've got to go."

As the small party rode through the gates, Hawke asked, "Did Commander Cullen find you last night?"

"No."

"Hah!" Varric shook his head. "Poor man, I don't think he'd ever been in the Rest before."

"I did offer to buy him a drink," Hawke said. "I figured I owed him one."

Varric leaned forward and spoke in a stage whisper, "I think Dorian put him off. No one should ever see _that_ sober,"

"Sounds like I missed quite the night." Solana forced a laugh.

She didn't see the figure on the battlements, half obscured by shadow, quietly watching her go.

* * *

The moon was high by the time Cullen returned to his office for the night. He'd kept busy intentionally, trying to take his mind off everything that Leliana had said.

She was completely right, of course.

He'd been a selfish coward about the whole thing, and now Solana was gone. He'd been angry. Angry at fate for finally bringing them together only to part them so soon. Angry at her for knowing of his inevitable heartbreak and failing to warn him. Angry at himself for being weak, for falling apart instead of being strong for her.

He'd been too angry and broken to even talk to her. He should have checked on her.

In his search for her the night before, he had discovered just how far she'd fallen since they'd arrived at Skyhold. She'd become a regular at the Herald's Rest tavern. Everyone he asked there had pointed him towards her customary stool – which had been left vacant because it was just that inevitable that she would eventually arrive. When he'd gone to Celeste, because he knew they were friends, he'd been horrified to learn that Solana had been sleeping in the barn, up in the hay loft.

Although she hadn't been there last night.

So where had she slept?

Had she slept alone?

He had no right to ask those questions, or even think them. It was none of his business anymore. He'd chosen that. And besides, shouldn't he be happy for her? If someone else was giving her the comfort that he had failed to, shouldn't he be relieved?

Perhaps he should be, but he wasn't. The very idea drew bile to his throat.

He'd eventually approached Leliana, even though she was precisely the last person he'd wanted to see. Leliana hadn't known where he might find her either. She'd suggested she might be out in the woods. Her agents had seen Solana wandering among the trees behind Skyhold a number of times. Perhaps she'd decided to take a walk?

He'd gone to look. He'd been set upon by wolves, which had made it a much bloodier endeavour than he'd expected. He'd been terrified that she had encountered the same, that she was somewhere in the trees, hurt and bleeding.

Eventually, after stumbling around until near dawn, he'd gone back to Skyhold.

And there she'd been, alone in front of the barn, tending to her horse and packing her supplies. Even so pale and sickly, he'd been taken by her. His breath had left him, relief and nerves tangling in his chest. He'd realised he hadn't thought as far as what he'd say to her if he did find her.

Then Celeste had approached and he had lost his nerve.

Leliana was right. He was a coward. He should have at least seen her off.

But what right did he have to demand her attention when he'd been so negligent? Let her real friends comfort her. Let her laugh with them instead.

So he'd watched her go and then he'd given his men the most intense day of training they'd ever had. They'd hate him for it. He didn't care.

Now he entered his office, closing the heavy door behind him with finality, already removing his surcout. He was grateful he no longer kept lyrium on hand, because days like this he questioned whether it really was worth it. What did his ideals matter if all they brought was pain?

He lit the lamp and… there was something on his desk.

It was a small basket. The kind that children used for collecting flowers. He approached it cautiously. Anything unexpected sitting on his desk deserved caution.

Whatever was inside it was wrapped in a handkerchief.

 _Curious._

He withdrew his sword and prodded at it. It didn't move, or combust.

Gingerly, he unwrapped it.

Blackberries.

Full and juicy and ripe. He smiled despite himself, warm memories rushing at him.

Who would do this?

He sank into his chair. The only person who knew his fondness for them was… well it was impossible that it was her, she was gone.

He thought he knew. Cole. It had to be Cole. Cole had a knack for giving people exactly what they needed when they needed it. A thoughtful gesture. He should remember to thank the boy.

His hand hovered over the basket.

They could be poisoned…

It was worth the risk.

* * *

A/N I kinda love that being set upon by wolves is a minor inconvenience to Cullen. He's just that badass.

(And just so we're clear, there's no way that Leliana didn't know exactly where Solana was :P)


	21. Lost to night

Sand was in everything.

Every. Thing.

Every time Solana moved, sand scraped somewhere. And it was usually somewhere most inconvenient.

She was hot, and tired, and the Calling was so loud it was all she could do not to scream. But they had seen the old ritual tower on the horizon, _finally_ , so they were galloping towards it. It looked something like the bottom of a dragon's maw, all teeth and red stone. A more foreboding structure, Solana couldn't imagine.

She buried her head against her horse's neck and tried to hold on to the contents of her stomach.

She hadn't had any alcohol since they'd set out weeks before – there hadn't been time - but it didn't seem to make a difference. The Calling was its own hangover. And the rotten egg stench of the nearby sulphur pits did not help in the least.

Trevelyan called for a halt and she pulled up the reins. He was already dismounting, hurrying forward into the sand. Oh Maker, did he never run out of energy?

Solana re-arranged her headscarf and slipped down from her own steed. Varric passed her a canteen. She wished it had something stronger than water in it, but warm water was better than nothing at all. Her throat was parched.

The ruin looked less intimidating up close. The entrance was no more than a chipped stone archway.

"I fear they've already started the ritual," Max said, gazing inward. "I hope we can stop them before more people get hurt."

Solana could see a long flight of stairs through the arch and, above it, some kind of green dust swirling. It wouldn't have been out of place in this horrid desert, but for the colour.

"Take point," said Hawke. "I'll guard your backs."

Solana wiped her sweating forehead with her sleeve and trudged after the Inquisitor. "What's the plan?"

"We stop them," Hawke provided.

"If I thought reasoning with them was going to work, I would hardly have run around Thedas looking for help."

"Who said anything about reasoning with them?"

She hoped he was joking.

"They're bound to change their minds when they realise they're being manipulated," Max said. His hand on his sword belied his confident words.

The only way to get further into the ruin was a bridge over the abyss Cullen had described. As Solana followed the men along the sun-bleached stone, she felt the pull of it.

What had Cullen said?

 _Straight to the Deep Roads._

She knew it without even looking over the edge. She could _feel_ it tugging at her. She could _feel_ the darkspawn far below.

The wind whined past them, echoing the call that reverberated in her mind.

The ruins themselves were eerily quiet. Were they too late? They were halfway up the vast flight of stairs when they heard voices, snatches of an argument on the wind.

"-wait."

"…Orders were clear."

"…this is wrong…"

Max dashed forward, armour clanging. She hurried afterwards, stumbling to a halt at the top of the stairs.

There weren't many Wardens, a handful perhaps. But they all already had demons standing passively beside them. All except the two currently circling each other in front of her. The one was hooded and had his hands raised, as if pleading mercy. The other… the other was Falin, brandishing a knife. His hair was hanging dank and loose, he was scowling.

On a platform slightly above them stood the strange man she'd seen with Clarel, the one who'd said they needed mages. Now, in the sunlight, she could see from his clothes he was Tevinter.

"Remember your oath," he said. "In war, victory. In peace vigilance…"

He had the hooded man's attention, and while he was distracted, Falin moved up behind him.

"In death…" the man said.

"No!" Solana rushed forward, but it was too late. Falin thrust the knife in between the man's ribs and blood gushed forth. A rift opened between them and Solana.

"Sacrifice." The Tevinter grinned as if he hadn't been interrupted.

From the rift, summoned by the blood, came a demon, roaring its displeasure.

"Good. Now bind it just as I showed you," the Tevinter said, still speaking as if there had been no intrusion.

"Falin! No! Wait!" Solana called.

But either he didn't hear her, or he was ignoring her. Where was Cassey? Where were the others? She scanned the area and her eyes fell on the pile of bodies.

 _Blood sacrifices_. She wanted to be sick. Elite warriors, turned to nothing but reagents.

Cassey wasn't among the Wardens. Was she one of the bodies?

No, they wouldn't kill a mage. They needed mages.

Unless she'd refused to perform this disgusting ritual?

Or her will had failed her, and she'd gone to the Deep Roads.

Or… or she hadn't made it through the Joining.

 _I should have warned her. I should never have let them become Wardens._

Solana didn't see what Falin did, but the demon fell silent and the rift blinked away.

The Tevinter smiled at Solana now, as if noticing her for the first time. He waved a greeting.

"The Hero, the Champion and the Inquisitor. What an unexpected pleasure." He gave an exaggerated bow. "Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium at your service."

Solana forced her legs to move her forward. She ignored Livius, addressing the man who had once been her friend. "Falin! What have you done, why are you doing this?"

He stared at her blankly. His eyes glowed red.

And then she knew, she knew exactly what was happening. The sick churning in her guts was the only thing that stopped her from launching herself at Livius's face.

"Wardens, this man is lying to you!" Max yelled from just behind her.

Livius laughed. "Wardens, hands up."

As one, the Warden mages obeyed.

"Hands down."

Again, they followed his command.

Of course, why would Corypheus make the Wardens destroy themselves when he could have such prize fighters on his side, leading his demon army? Leading his… oh, Maker. It wasn't their magic he wanted. They weren't just mages, they were mages with Grey Warden secrets.

"The Calling had them terrified." Livius said. "They looked everywhere for help"

"The Calling?" Max looked to her. She should have said something. She hadn't thought it important but it had been the essential part. If she had only told them at the start of it all, maybe the Inquisition would have figured out the connection sooner. Maybe they could have stopped this.

"And since it was my master who put The Calling into their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared," Livius continued. "Sadly for the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They're now my master's slaves."

Solana looked at Falin, heart pounding so hard in her chest that it was drowning out everything Livius was saying. This kind of mind control, this kind of magic… there was only one way this could end.

"Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas," Livius said.

 _The rest._ So this wasn't all of them…

Cassey could still be alive.

Without warning, Max rushed forward, brandishing his family sword. Livius lifted his arm. Red chased across his skin and then Max was on his knees, howling in agony, clutching his cursed hand.

"The Elder One showed me how to deal with you."

"And what about me?" Solana raised her staff.

It had been a long time since she'd needed to draw on all of her power. But her body still remembered. It remembered how to tap into pain and fear, to transform her raw emotions into energy. Primal magic sparked up from her chest, along her arms and into the staff. It glowed blindingly white and then Livius, the Warden mages, the demons, everything erupted in a column of flame. It scalded her face and frizzed her hair. Her allies scattered. Max curled in on himself, hiding his head.

It swirled around them, a roaring inferno, punctuated by screams.

"Kill them!" Livius screeched.

Wardens and demons came at her. Their magic glanced off her hastily-cast barrier. She froze one of the rage demons with a blast of ice, dodged a bolt of lightning from one of the Warden mages. But she was caught on the defense, and casting the inferno had almost drained her. They drove her backwards, back towards the precipice, back towards the Deep Roads.

And then Max and Hawke were at her side; Hawke casting, Max slashing. A rain of Varric's arrows came down a few feet from her. Metal hit metal, opposing spells collided in midair. It was a symphony of smashing weapons and exploding magic, and then nothing but ringing silence. The bodies of the Warden mages joined the bodies of their comrades. There was no sign of Livius.

Solana wasn't sure who'd killed Falin. His face was burned and he stared up at her glass-eyed. It could have been any one of them. She fell to her knees at his side, panting, unable to hold herself upright anymore. She couldn't seem to get in enough air. She couldn't cry either. Weren't people supposed to cry when something like this happened? Instead, all she could do was stare.

"I'm sorry," Max said, sheathing his sword. "I'm assuming he was your friend?"

She swallowed. "Yes. We… we only knew each other for a few weeks. But he was a good man."

She remembered how determined he'd been to help the Tranquil. Is that why he'd done this? Had that been the price of his devotion?

Max's heavy hand landed on her shoulder. She knew he was trying to comfort her, but somehow it didn't help.

"Do you think you can… leave me alone for a moment. I just need a minute."

"Absolutely. We'll wait on the bridge."

It was slightly easier to breathe when they were gone. She slipped a ring off one of Falin's fingers.

* * *

Solana stood at the top of the jagged parapet, looking down, down, down. She'd intended to head back to join the others, but the abyss had pulled at her like vertigo. It was a twisted scar in the face of the earth. A long, black yawning chasm. There was no end to it. It just kept going. Straight to the Deep Roads and maybe through the very world.

 _They_ were moving down there like ants in an ant hill. She had the oil-slick feeling of them crawling across her skin. She knew their need, their longing, as they dug, dug, dug for that which every sane part of her hoped they'd never find. But she wasn't all sane anymore. There was a part of her that wanted to join them, that called for the same thing.

If the Chantry was right about Max, perhaps it was right about her curse too. A curse from the Maker himself. Perhaps she was fooling herself believing that she had any choice at all? What mortal could rally against the will of the Maker?

She heard someone approach, but didn't turn to look at them. She knew it was Hawke. Max clattered everywhere he went and Varric's swagger was unmistakable.

"It's not your fault," he said at length. "You know that, right?"

The wind was whipping up the sand across the chasm. It glittered in the afternoon light, ethereal.

"I took them to the Wardens. Did I tell you that?" She didn't wait for an answer. "They were on the run from the Templars. They were trying to protect their Circle's Tranquil. I thought the Wardens could help them." She closed her eyes. "I should have taken them with me when I ran."

"If I know the Wardens, it's a small miracle you got away at all. Getting my brother out when all this started was an operation in and of itself."

"If I'd found help sooner… I should have tried harder." She shouldn't have accepted that the Inquisition wanted to close the Breach first. She should have told them about The Calling. Now she knew the Corypheus connection, it seemed like she should have guessed his plans from the start.

"It's not your fault." Hawke repeated. She heard him move closer. Perhaps he was trying to get close enough to grab her should she decide to jump. "People like us, people who have so much power… we often feel like we have power over everything. But that's not the case. Some things you can't stop."

"Like a mage uprising?"

He snorted. "We're not talking about me."

With a sigh she stepped back. "I need a drink."

"I hear there's an old raider bar not far from here." Varric called to her from where he stood a few metres away. Max was with him.

"How far is 'not far'?" she asked.

"About half a day."

She groaned. Hawke wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"By the way," she said, as he led her back along the bridge. "If I'd wanted to jump, you couldn't have stopped me."

"Uh huh."

"You do know that I defeated an archdemon once?"

"Pff." He rolled his eyes. "I fought a Qun Arishok."

"So?"

"I had to get through about 20 of his men first."

Varric laughed at her expression.

"I'm starting to feel a little inadequate here," Max commented.

Varric patted him on the back. "Come along, Inquisitor. We might even let you sit at the grownups' table."

* * *

A/N Worry not, sexy Cullen returns tomorrow.

Is it just me or was Hawke cribbing his encouragement speech from something someone said to him after that thing with his mom? I hope it was Avaline and not Varric otherwise how embarrassing.

A huge thank you to ~elhariah for helping me with this chapter.


	22. The smallest of deeds

The mystery of the blackberries was exceedingly curious. If it had been but that one basket, it would have been intriguing enough.

But this was the fourth.

Cullen had been receiving one a week, roughly. Although never on the same day of the week and never at the same time of day.

After the first basket, he had sought Cole to thank him. Cole had stared at him with those big blue eyes and denied it.

Cullen had put it down to fear of consequences. The Inquisitor had given the boy a long lecture only recently about wasting resources in the course of performing his good deeds. After the second basket, Cullen had returned to Cole. And again, he had said, "Not I, Commander."

"I like to help," he'd added. "But this is not my doing."

After the third basket, Cullen had resorted to asking Leliana if she had any idea how someone might be sneaking into his office to deposit baskets of berries without any of his men seeing them.

"It seems you have a secret admirer, Commander," she'd said.

"If you know who it is, pray tell me." He'd scratched the back of his neck and then immediately regretted it because he knew that she'd read into that. She would enjoy his discomfort.

Her answering smile indicated he was correct. She'd risen languidly to her feet, paging absently through one of her reports. "I can have my agents keep watch on your office."

"Yes." That would most certainly work.

"On condition." His heart sank to his boots. Her eyes didn't leave her papers.

"What?"

"The Grande Ball."

"No."

"Come now, Commander. If there truly is an assassin lurking within the court, surely you want to be there?"

He couldn't recall exactly what he'd said to her. His brain had immediately gone into meltdown.

He'd attended a similar event in Kirkwall. Something the Viscount had hosted. Cullen had wanted to go in his Templar garb, but Meredith had insisted that he wear some uncomfortable formal getup. He'd felt like a peacock. But the outfit wasn't what he'd hated most. It was the… attention.

"Well, I suppose we'll never know who your admirer is, then."

He'd sighed and told her plainly that he didn't much care in any case. An obvious lie. He desperately wanted to know, but only so he could dissuade whoever it was. He even had a speech prepared. Something along the lines of let's just be friends.

He'd ended up agreeing to go to the blighted Ball as one of the Inquisition representatives.

He could imagine Josephine completely losing all self-control and whooping for joy. She'd been trying, and failing, to convince him for weeks. She'd managed to secure them a number of invitations. From the would-be usurper, Gaspard, no less.

Cullen's only comfort was that he wouldn't be the only one attending under duress. One of the invitations had been addressed to Solana by name. Josephine had strongly implied that the Hero of Ferelden's attendance was a necessity of their agreement with the duke.

That was, if she returned at all.

 _Enough of that._

He picked up the latest basket and strode back out of his office.

Up in Leliana's tower, he waved it at her. "So, who is it?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "I'm sorry, Commander?"

"It's another one. Another basket." He set it on her desk.

"I can see that."

"You said you'd find out who was leaving them."

"And I will." She returned her attention to her paperwork.

"When?"

"These things take time."

"You're not even investigating."

She signed a paper with a flourish. "I am. But, unlike yours, _my_ work requires subtlety. I do have _some_ good news for you, however."

He was hoping she'd say that the ball had been cancelled, or that someone else more important needed the invitation that had been earmarked for him.

"We received word a few minutes ago. The Inquisitor should be back by nightfall."

He swallowed. "The Inquisitor?"

She glanced up at him but said nothing.

"You're really going to make me ask?"

"I am."

He closed his eyes. "Is she safe?"

"Who?"

"Maker, Leliana. Who do you think I – Solana, the Hero. Is she with him? Is she safe?"

Leliana smiled, retrieved a paper from near her elbow and passed it to him.

It was scrawled in Solana's untidy hand. He was surprised he recognised it after so many years. It said to prepare the War Council, they had much to discuss.

"Sent from an inn a few hours from here."

A wild ensemble of emotions rushed him all at once, like a discordant concerto. Relief she was alive, excitement that he'd see her again soon, dread that he'd see her again soon, fear that she was still in as much pain as when he'd last seen her. He felt ill.

"Thank you," he said to Leliana.

He turned to leave, still clutching the note, but she called after him. "Commander, don't forget your berries."

* * *

It said a lot that Solana, Hawke and Trevelyan hadn't even visited their quarters to wash before calling the meeting.

Solana was already pacing at the far end of the room when Cullen entered. She stopped when she saw him, eyes flicking away from his, down to her feet. She was dressed in riding gear with a streak of dirt across her cheek. Her hair was mostly hidden under a scarf, but the tendrils that escaped were hopelessly tangled. There was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, where her skin must have been exposed while riding. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He paused in the doorway, overcome. She was alive, she was back.

He opened his mouth to greet her, no sound came out. Leliana cleared her throat behind him and he moved to his place at the table, stealing glances at Solana.

"You received my letter?" she asked Leliana.

"Yes, but it was short on the details."

She didn't mean the note she'd sent from the inn. He'd seen the letter too, weeks ago. It had said simply "Corypheus summoning army of demons. Will explain later. Prepare forces to march on Adamant."

Solana was fidgety. She untied the scarf from her head and attempted to comb through her hair with her fingers. It was cleaner than the rest of her, having been protected from the dust of the road, but it frizzed when she pulled at it until her face was surrounded by a large, orange, mane.

"There was something that I didn't tell you all when I first spoke of the Warden plans. I regret that now. At the time I didn't feel it relevant. Understand, the Grey Wardens value secrecy. Even I was not told until I had already undergone the ritual."

"What ritual?" Cassandra wanted to know.

Solana's eyes locked on hers. "The Joining. The ritual that makes one a Warden." Then she looked away, at the window behind Cullen. "People think Wardens immune to the Blight but that's not quite true. We are merely resistant. It takes about 30 years for the sickness to take hold and when it starts, when our bodies begin to give in, an ancient curse triggers in our blood. It calls us to the Deep Roads, to end our lives fighting darkspawn, to give our deaths meaning. It starts like a gentle hum at first, but the longer you ignore it, the louder and more painful it becomes. The reason I returned to Ferelden was not because of the Breach – as I'm sure you all suspected was the case. I started hearing this Calling prematurely. What I should have told you is that all the Grey Wardens started hearing it at the same time. I thought it would be enough for you to know that they intended to invade the Deep Roads using an army summoned by blood magic. I didn't think the reason they'd decided on this course was relevant. I apologise."

She looked down at her hands, now fiddling with the clasp on her riding coat. She had clearly prepared this speech, but that was making delivering it no easier. Cullen appreciated that she didn't bring up the little that she'd confided to him.

"So you're saying that the Wardens are dying out?" Cassandra asked. "If that happens, who will remain to slay the archdemon should another Blight come?"

"Precisely." Solana's mouth curved in an almost smile. "Hence the assault on the Deep Roads. Only the Wardens know where the Old Gods sleep."

"They have that knowledge?" This was news to Cullen.

"Not all. Not me. But enough. Only the Wardens know where the Old Gods sleep and only they are able to kill them. When they believed they were dying, Warden Commander Clarel thought the only logical course of action would be to kill the Old Gods now, while there are still Wardens to do so. And the only way to get through the Deep Roads to reach them would be with a significant army. Unfortunately for her, the armies of the South were already at war, so she devised another plan. What I was unaware of when she told me this, was that she was consorting with the Venatori. We encountered her Venatori friend in the Western Approach and he confirmed that Corypheus is responsible for triggering The Calling. When Hawke first mentioned his suspicions to me, I thought Corypheus meant to use this Calling to make the Wardens essentially commit suicide. He is darkspawn, after all. Which would make them a great threat to him. I thought Clarel's blood magic plot unrelated. But the truth we discovered is much worse."

She glanced at Trevelyen, who'd been quietly watching. He nodded for her to continue. "It was his intention all along to drive the Wardens to this desperate solution. The binding ritual used to bind the demons also bound the mages to Corypheus's will. He is building an army of both demons and mages."

"And he plans to use the bound Wardens to find and wake the Old Gods?" Cullen guessed.

She looked to him. Their eyes met for the first time since she'd returned and the breath left his lungs.

"Yes, I imagine that's his plan. He seems to think he can control the Blight."

And then her eyes dropped back to her fidgeting fingers. "Again, I apologise. I fear we may be too late now. If I had disclosed what I knew earlier we may have stood more of a chance."

"That's unfair," Trevelyan said. He'd remained completely silent during her speech. Perhaps they had agreed to this beforehand. "We could have investigated sooner."

Cullen spoke quietly, "There was no way you could have known that what you were going through was part of Corypheus's plot." He hadn't guessed as much and he doubted the others would have, even if she had told them.

She gave him a faint smile.

Trevelyan addressed the Council. "Fortunately, the ritual we interrupted was an experiment, a test if you will. After our encounter, Scout Harding tracked this Venatori to an abandoned Warden fortress called Adamant. I believe Solana mentioned it in her note?"

Cullen nodded. "The fortress dates back to the Second Blight. It's withstood countless darkspawn attacks, but on the other hand, that means it was built before the age of modern siege equipment. A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls and thanks to our Lady Ambassador…"

He indicated for Josephine to speak. She grinned. "Lady Seryl of Jader was pleased to lend the Inquisition her sappers. They've already delivered the trebuchets."

"That's good," Solana said, letting out a breath. "Very good. When can we march?"

"Well we-" Cullen started.

Josephine interrupted. "There is another matter we must attend to."

Cullen could see this agitated Solana. Time was of the essence. She scratched around her neck. "If you tell me it's that ball…"

He stepped in. "Our army will only be ready in just over a week. I've had every blacksmith from here to Redcliff commissioned to outfit our men, and we're almost there. But we still need a little time."

"That's not what I wanted to hear," Solana said without looking at him. His stomach twisted.

Josephine sighed. "When the Inquisitor was displaced in time, he discovered that two key events had taken place to bring about the future he saw, the future we wish to avoid. One of those things was the demon army marching across Thedas. But the other, the one that came first, was the assassination of Empress Celene. The Grande Ball would provide the perfect opportunity for such a strike against her. I have secured us invitations. We should attend."

Solana scrubbed her face with her hands, but offered no comment.

"I agree," Trevelyan said. "It will only delay us by a matter of days and if the future I saw is anything to go by, it is an essential turning point."

"A matter of days might be all between us and the next Blight," Solana objected.

"I understand your anxiety, Solana. Honestly, I do. But I'm afraid I agree with Josephine. We need to try prevent both events from occurring. We can make up the time on the road if necessary."

Cullen could tell that Solana was not comforted by this. He half expected her to continue arguing, but she shook her head, defeated.

When no one else had anything to add, Trevelyan dismissed them.

Hawke, who'd been lurking by the door, stepped forward to put an arm around Solana's shoulders.

Cullen's heart gave a jolt _. No, surely not?_

It took Cullen a full head-spinning moment before he remembered that Hawke didn't go for women, and that he had a dedicated (homicidal) partner stashed away somewhere.

 _You have no right,_ Cullen lectured himself as he left the room. _What she does with her affections is none of your concern._

But that didn't make it any less painful to imagine.

* * *

The next morning's training took on a sense of urgency when Cullen told his men how soon they'd be marching out. It was difficult watching them, knowing that not all of them would survive Adamant.

He was perhaps a little sharper with them than he intended to be, but some of these soldiers were yet to be tested in battle. They didn't know, as he did, that one momentary lapse in concentration was all that stood between them and death. Many of them would learn the hard way.

When he finally dismissed them, he felt exhausted. He told himself that they knew the risks, that they wouldn't have signed up if they hadn't been prepared to pay the ultimate price – but that somehow didn't make it any easier. He trudged back to his room, running through the list of things he had to do before he could allow himself a few minutes quiet. Perhaps Dorian would be open to a game of chess later? Perhaps that could lift his spirits?

He paused with his hand on his office door, sensing rather than hearing something amiss. His hand moved automatically to his weapon as he listened closely.

Someone was… there was someone in his office.

He slammed the door open, drawing his sword.

Solana jumped away from his desk.

He froze, blinking at her stupidly. She was wearing deep green robes, her face was clean and her hair was tied up neatly. She looked more like her Circle self than the women he'd recently come to know.

On the desk sat a small basket.

He moved into the room, sheathing his weapon. "I don't… I don't know who's leaving those. Or what they mean. Leliana is meant to be…"

He trailed off. She'd flushed. She was looking everywhere but at him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked slowly.

She bit her lower lip and his heart skittered. Her gaze travelled to the basket again. "Any theories?"

"What?"

Her eyes darted to his and then away. She cleared her throat. "Do you have any suspicions as to who's bringing you the berries?"

A jolt ran through his body. Something fluttered in his stomach. He looked at the basket to make sure. The contents were still neatly wrapped up. "I didn't say anything about berries."

Solana swore under her breath.

He stepped closer to her. "I didn't. Have any theories, that is."

Her eyes finally met his. "But I'm supposing you do now?"

"I'm beginning to develop one, yes. But… how? And why?"

"Well, the why should be obvious." She looked at her feet again and took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I'm not as adept at this as Celeste. Stealth was never my strong suit."

"Celeste…that's how you… while you weren't here."

She nodded, still not looking at him. "Fiona taught her a spell that makes her unnoticeable. I tried it, but I suppose it failed."

"I don't think any spell could prevent me from noticing you." He said, without thinking. Now it was him that couldn't meet her eyes. "Why?"

"Is that really a question?"

"I'm asking it, so yes."

She paced away from him. "You remember that first day you walked me back to my cottage, after we trained the mages?"

"Of course, I do" How could he forget?

"Do you remember what I said to you?"

"You said a lot of things."

"That's true." She scratched her head. "We were talking about me splashing you in the face."

He swallowed. "You said… you said you wanted to make me smile."

She nodded. He expected her to continue, but she didn't.

"That's your answer? That's why… this subterfuge?"

"Did it work?"

It had but… "There has to be more to it than that." She wouldn't have even seen the results of her efforts.

She remained silent for a time, staring at the floor. He waited, watching her face, the pinkness in her cheeks, the way the light caught her hair.

Eventually she said softly, "I wanted to be here for you, when I couldn't… be here for you."

"Be here for me?" But that wasn't right… how could she think that when he had been so negligent? She was the one who needed him, not the other way around. He'd failed her. He didn't deserve this.

She spoke quickly, as if pausing would prevent her getting the words out. "I knew that my leaving the way I did would put you under extra strain. With everything you were going through… and then me, and the Deep Roads and… well I wanted to give you a distraction. I thought of that day, how delighted you were when you saw the blackberries, how you said they brought back good memories. I thought the mystery would intrigue you and that maybe the gift itself would make you smile… at least once. It was probably a stupid idea. I… my head's a mess. I'm not sure how sober I was when I -"

He crossed the room in three strides. He was going to reach for her, pull her into a kiss. At the very last moment he stopped.

Like with the lyrium, one dose would push him over into madness again. She startled. The look on her face confirmed that she knew exactly what he'd intended.

"Thank you," he said stiffly. What he meant was that he couldn't remember a single time anyone had ever done anything nearly as thoughtful for him. What he meant was that his chest was full of warmth and joy like it hadn't been in weeks. What he meant was _I love you_.

Her mouth flickered towards a hesitant smile.

He cleared his throat and moved away from her. "Can I offer you some tea or something? I'm afraid I don't have anything stronger on hand."

"No," she said. "No, I don't think that's a good idea."

Because they both knew it wouldn't just be tea.

"How's your…" she trailed off. "How's it going?"

She meant the lyrium. "Fine. Good." He cleared his throat again. "And you? How's your…?"

"Been better. But I'm still here. For now, at least."

The last words felt like ice running through his veins.

"Solana… I…"

"It's okay."

"No, it really isn't. It's not fair that this should happen to you. After you… you saved us all." And he knew she'd take his meaning. She had saved him in a very real sense before she'd even built her army to fight the Blight. He swallowed again. "I will endeavour to be a better friend to you. In the time we have. I haven't done anything to deserve the kindness you have shown me, but I'd like for that to change."

When she didn't speak, he risked looking at her again. She smiled. "I don't suppose you can get me out of attending this ball?"

A bark of laughter escaped his throat. "No. I'm afraid we're both equally ensnared."

He didn't mention that her gifts had been indirectly responsible for that fact. He was too grateful for them.


	23. Wicked hearts

The Winter Palace glittered like a mound of treasure as the Inquisition carriages rolled over the hills towards it. Solana's knuckles were white but otherwise Cullen thought she was remarkably composed.

It had been a pleasant trip, as far as this kind of journey went.

"It would not do for the Inquisition to be seen sleeping rough," Josephine had said.

So she'd drawn up an itinerary and negotiated accommodation for them the likes of which Cullen had never imagined. The first night they had slept in a well-to do hostelry. They'd stayed up until the early hours playing several games of Wicked Grace while Josephine and Leliana shared stories about their time in court, each one more outrageous than the last.

Solana was a useless opponent. Her face was far too expressive and Leliana teased her about it relentlessly.

The next night they'd been welcomed into the home of a Comte ally. He'd provided dinner in a great hall lined with the heads of the various beasts he'd slayed on his hunting trips. He'd entertained them with the minutia of these trips while they'd feasted on enough food to feed an entire army.

Their final night had been spent at the summer home of a noble friend of Leliana's. It was empty except for the servants and the Inquisition had the run of the place. Each of them had slept in extraordinary bed chambers larger than Trevelyan's at Skyhold with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on exquisite gardens. Cullen would be lying if he said that he hadn't fantasized about having Solana share one of those oversized rooms with him. But she had been across the hall and they hadn't so much as spoken following the evening meal.

She'd remained sober, he'd noticed, and he imagined it was on Josephine's insistence. She needed to look the part of the bright-eyed hero that the Orlesians expected.

They'd traded their horses for a carriage at that mansion and had been riding towards the palace for the better part of the day. Leliana and Josephine exchanged theories on who they might or might not see and reminded one another of old alliances and family ties – the kind of knowledge that would come in handy in the Grand Game.

Solana stared out the window, her thoughts her own. Cullen took the opportunity to openly admire the intricate knot of her hair, the way curls escaped in small tendrils against her smooth neck. She was seated next to Max and every so often he'd attempt to strike up conversation. She'd answer him politely, but eventually her attention would always drift back to the landscapes they rode past.

If Cullen could have said anything to ease her mind, he would have.

But he could think of nothing, so he kept quiet.

* * *

 _Urgh_

Solana scratched around her collar and then remembered what Josephine had said about fidgeting and dropped her hands to her sides.

So, this is what Orlesians did with their free time? They dressed up in various plumage and made spiteful conversation while smiling at each other from behind shining masks. It made her feel nauseous. Or perhaps that was just the food.

Snails.

Maker, who had thought that a good idea?

She tucked her hands behinds her back where she could wring them without anyone seeing.

Josephine had positioned her near the entrance of the room, where she'd be in plain sight of everyone. Whatever the ambassador's plan, it had worked. Nobles kept approaching her to ask if she was really the Hero of Ferelden, if she'd really brought down an archdemon, and what she thought of Max. It seemed there was some gossip about the two of them being intimate, which she was quick to dismiss. She wasn't sure whether her response made the nobles less or more convinced of the affair.

And everything itched.

She supposed that she should be grateful that Josephine hadn't made her wear one of those giant dresses. Their construction seemed more intricate than that of a Tevinter puzzle box and she couldn't imagine how the women got in and out of them. With the help of numerous servants, most probably.

But the Inquisition tunics were neither comfortable nor flattering. Especially since they were red and clashed with her hair something awful.

She glanced at Cullen, across the room. He was surrounded by a gaggle of women who were staring at him admiringly. Each one, a painted doll who could keep him in a life of luxury for the rest of his days.

"Stop grinding your teeth," Josephine admonished. She waved at a passing couple.

Solana unclenched her jaw and took a deep breath.

Then she saw her.

The only person outside of the Inquisition who'd chosen to forgo a mask. Ice hit Solana's core and slowly flooded through her. Morrigan.

The Witch of the Wilds was adorned in jewels, wearing a dress of a rich red velvet and stiff leather. But everything else about her was exactly the same. It seemed she hadn't aged at all since that night when she'd asked for Alistair's seed.

Solana stood frozen, stomach churning. _Why here, why now?_

"Is something the matter?" Josephine asked.

As if sensing the attention, Morrigan turned to Solana. She smiled.

"Excuse me." Solana swept past the ambassador, making for the exit.

* * *

Solana found Leliana just outside the ballroom, quietly observing the nobles as they arrived.

"Morrigan's here," she said, with all of the subtlety she'd shown in her games of Wicked Grace.

"I know." The spymaster said.

"What is she doing here?"

"From what I understand, she lives here."

Solana blinked at her. The Morrigan she'd known had found a village inn too much "society" for her. "She lives here?" she repeated.

Leliana took her elbow and guided her to a quiet alcove where they didn't risk being overheard. "It seems she's endeared herself to the Empress. She's acquired the moniker 'arcane adviser'. Celene is fascinated by matters of the arcane and in recent times Morrigan is never far from her side."

"You knew this." Solana accused. "You knew this before we even arranged to come here. Why didn't you – you could have told me."

"If I'd told you, would you have still agreed to attend?"

Solana wrapped her arms around herself and looked at the floor, trying to find her focus. Extreme emotion made the humming at the back of her mind so much worse.

Leliana touched her arm gently. "You never did tell me what happened between the two of you. Your relationship was animus at best but when she suddenly left, I always sensed that something had happened."

"Yes, something did happen." But she'd been unable to tell Leliana, unable to confess that she'd chosen for one of them to die.

In those first few, terrible, months of the Blight, Alistair had been mourning the loss of his dearest friend and mentor and Leliana's words of comfort had broken through to him when nothing else could. The three of them had been green and scared. They'd huddled around the camp fire, their conversation all that kept the shadows at bay.

Later Wynne had joined them. She'd been the nurturing presence that both Alistair and Leliana had craved. And there had been others too, staunch allies and traitors alike, who'd woven in and out of their lives during the course of that dark year. But when Solana thought of her time travelling across Ferelden building an army, she always thought of sitting beside the fire with Leliana on one side and Alistair on the other.

How did she begin to tell Leliana that she was personally responsible for the loss of one of their trio?

"What do you think she's doing here?" She asked Leliana now, deflecting the spymaster's attention from the past.

Leliana didn't miss a beat. She narrowed her eyes with suspicion. But when she spoke, it was to answer the question, "I'm not sure. I asked the Inquisitor to look into it, but something tells me you might have more luck."

"Me? I'm not sure I'll even talk to her." She didn't want to talk to her.

"Oh, I'm certain you will. She'll seek you out eventually. There's no lure quite as strong as unfinished business."

* * *

Morrigan finally came to Solana while she was standing quietly eating candied nuts and watching Cullen's flock attempting to convince him to dance.

"You always were one for tall and stupid."

She jolted, almost choking on a nut. "Cullen's not stupid."

At Morrigan's musical laugh, she knew she'd said the exact wrong thing.

The witch deepened her voice. "I am big man, I hit things,"

Solana sighed and turned to give the woman her full attention. "What do you want, Morrigan?"

She arched one slender eyebrow, the other hidden beneath her dark fringe. "Hello to you too. Good to see you, my long lost friend, how have you been keeping?"

Solana rolled her eyes.

Morrigan expelled a breath. "What I want is for the empress to survive this night." She eyed Solana with that disconcerting, penetrating gaze.

"Don't tell me you've grown sentimental?"

"Hardly. If anything were to happen to Celene, eyes would turn first to her occult adviser," she gestured to herself. "Your Inquisitor has been exploring every dark corner of the palace... am I correct in assuming the Inquisition wants the same thing?"

"Perhaps Max is just appreciating the architecture."

Her dark red lips curved. "Most certainly, especially the garden trellis."

Solana blinked at her. "You're joking."

"Oh, I'm being quite serious. Leliana should look into giving him lessons in stealth." She smiled benignly. "I come bearing a gift."

Seemingly out of nowhere she pulled a small key. "Recently I found and killed an unwelcome guest within these walls. An agent of Tevinter. So, I offer you this. A key found on the Tevinter's body. Where it leads I cannot say, yet if Celene is in danger I cannot leave her side long enough to search."

"Why give this to me?"

"I tried giving it to your Inquisitor, but he seemed reluctant to trust me. Why, I can't imagine. You, on the other hand, should be able to convince him."

"What makes you think _I_ trust you?"

"Have I ever given you reason not to?"

Solana held her gaze for a long moment. Then accepted the key.

* * *

"The trellis? Really?"

Max flushed. He was sitting by the fountain, absently tossing in coins. "Who saw?"

Solana settled next to him. "The empress's occult adviser. I'm relatively certain she didn't sound the alarm."

His eyes flashed to hers and then he chuckled. "Found some interesting things in the library. I'm sure Josie will forgive me."

"Any leads?"

"On the assassin? No." He frowned. "Somehow I imagined this would be easier. The courts back home were quite different."

Solana passed him the key. He examined it before looking at her askance.

"A gift from said occult adviser."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"Not entirely." She watched him flick in another coin. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, Leliana said this is a local custom. I'm trying to fit in."

"It looks like you're wasting money."

"Also a local custom, I'm told. Did you know there's a shop in Orlais that has a single item for sale? It's exceedingly expensive and you're not allowed to know what it is before you purchase it. I was horrified. The salesman seemed quite shocked that I didn't want it. I'm starting to believe there's something in the water here. Maybe we should look into that. I mean after the Warden thing."

Solana laughed despite herself. Then she noticed some nearby nobles leaning close to comment and realised what it might look like, them sitting here like this.

Max turned the key over in his hand. "I've been warned to watch out for this woman. My reports say she spends far too much time with Celene. Apparently she arrived one day and charmed the court as if by magic. A pretty convenient place for an assassin to hide, at Celene's side. This could be a trap."

"It could be," Solana agreed. "But it's unlikely."

"Oh?"

"I…" she tried to find the right words. "I travelled with Morrigan. During the Blight."

"Wait, you're not saying that she's the Witch of the Wilds? The one from the stories?"

Solana nodded. "The very same."

"And you think I can trust her?"

"I wouldn't say that."

His brow creased. It reminded Solana of the look her hound gave her when he was puzzled. She'd taken him to the Denerim kennels before she'd left, to help replenish the number of mabari. She liked to think he'd lived a full and happy life, with multiple adoring lady Dogs willing to cater to his every whim. In many ways, Trevelyan was like a big puppy. Full of enthusiasm and good intention, sometimes to his detriment.

"With Morrigan, you can trust in one thing. She'll always be looking out for herself first and foremost. I assure you she has an ulterior motive, but I doubt it's to slay Celene. She's not the type to play henchman."

He offered her a smile. "If the stories are to be believed she followed you well enough."

"She followed me as long as it suited her."

* * *

A/N I know, I know, I was very lazy with this chapter name. But there are only so many verses in the Chant of Light. I guess if it works it works?

Also, I love the idea of Solana having an expressive face... because nothing made those super emotional and um super intimate scenes more amusing than a character model whose face was stuck at "tranquil" :P.


	24. In the long hours of the night

Solana dashed into the ballroom, still brandishing her staff.

There was an intake of breath as every noble within earshot turned.

Max clattered in behind her.

The last hour had felt like something out of one of Leliana's stories. Spies, hidden love affairs, literal backstabbing and a masked menace to boot. Her head was reeling, but it wasn't over yet.

Florianne was on the other side of the room, approaching Celene.

They were in time, but only just.

The next few minutes unfolded as if in slow motion, Celene starting her speech, Max pushing across the room to try save her, the flash of a knife, then swords and chaos. Throughout the hall Inquisition soldiers fell to concealed weapons.

Solana's head exploded with pain. She cast healing and she cast wide, praying that Max and the others would see to Florianne. So much blood. She fell to her knees as the spell drained her.

She wasn't good at this. Spirit magic had never been her specialty. But she wouldn't let them die.

It was so loud. Everything. The clashing of weapons, the screaming of frightened people, the Calling reverberating through her skull in response to the heightened emotion. She clenched her teeth against it, focusing on holding the spell.

It was over in minutes. The Inquisition rallied. She could hear Cullen directing his men to protect the people and only when the sound of the screaming stopped, did she dare cancel her spell. She stayed on her knees for a time, heaving in air, waiting for the black spots behind her eyes to subside. Someone hauled her to her feet. She recognised the scent of him before she recognised anything else. Cullen clutched her shoulders and spoke into her face. She could hardly make out his words above the ringing in her ears.

"Are you hurt?!"

She shook her head. Reality blurred as she did, as if her eyes couldn't quite keep up with the movement. She shut them. "Mana."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her to a seat at the edge of the room.

The next thing she was aware of was Celene standing making a speech. It was almost as if time had skipped backwards. But now Max was standing with the empress, treating the nobles to his bright smile. When Celene was done, he told them about Corypheus, he told them that they needed to unite against him. The entire room cheered.

It wavered in and out of focus. This wasn't a normal mana drain. This kind of dizziness was something new.

Was it the blight sickness?

She'd been prepared for this, hadn't she? When she'd first heard The Calling, when she'd first come down from the mountains. She'd thought she was sick. She'd thought she was dying.

So why did it terrify her so much now?

Because she'd let herself hope. After what Hawke had said, she'd let herself believe that Corypheus might have tricked her mind and not her body. But perhaps he had actually sped up the progress of the Blight sickness in the Wardens?

She stared down at her hands. It _was_ known as the wasting sickness. She shouldn't be disappointed that she was finally wasting.

Cullen was still standing beside her, a hand on the back of her chair. He glanced down at her and she straightened, not wishing to alarm him.

"I'm going to go check on – will you be alright?"

She nodded. "Just tired. I'll wait here. Tell me when it's time to go."

He gave her a long look, then strode away. She watched him cross the ballroom. He stopped every few feet, either to check on one of his men or to be waylaid by one of his many admirers, who were now even more determined to get his attention.

The room faded away again. She jerked awake to a quieter hall. The music had dimmed, any blood had been cleaned off the tiles, and a few last couples were moving in a slow waltz on the dancefloor. It must have been very late.

"Welcome back," Cullen's voice said. He was standing beside the chair again and he smiled down at her.

"Josephine's going to kill me," Solana said, reaching automatically for her collar to straighten it. She'd stayed sober and she'd still ended up passed out in a corner.

He chuckled and unbidden desire rose in her. "Don't worry, I've been keeping watch."

"I'm surprised you're not on the dancefloor."

"I'm not much of a dancer."

Her retort died on her lips. Morrigan was moving toward them, hips swaying and a smirk on her lips. Solana groaned and Cullen glanced down at her again in concern.

It was too late to say anything, Morrigan came within earshot.

"Am I to assume by the way you are glaring at me, you have heard the news?" she said to Solana, ignoring Cullen. She was looking down her nose at her. Solana didn't like that. She rose to her feet. Her legs were still embarrassingly shaky, but she managed to resist the urge to reach out to Cullen for support.

Once they were eye-to-eye, Morrigan said coolly, "There's no use blaming me. It was not, I assure you, my idea."

"Morrigan, Commander Cullen. Cullen, Morrigan. Morrigan, what are you talking about?"

The witch tilted her head, continuing to ignore Cullen. "So, you have not been informed?"

"Informed of what?"

The corner of Morrigan's mouth moved upwards. An incredibly familiar, self-satisfied look.

"It seems we are to be seeing a lot more of each other. By imperial decree I have been named liaison to the Inquisition."

"What does that mean?"

"I see I will need to break this into tiny little words for you."

"Morrigan?" Cullen repeated.

She finally looked at him, but with mild disinterest. "Oh, she's told you stories has she?"

Cullen's eyes darted to Solana's and whatever he found there must have served as confirmation because he glowered at the witch. "Oh, she's told me stories." He dropped his voice. "You're an apostate. A malificar-"

Solana didn't quite believe it, but his hand moved to his sword. The movement wasn't lost on Morrigan, but she seemed amused rather than frightened by it. "And now I am _your_ malificar." The way she said the word dripped with sarcasm. She gave a small curtsy. "The empress is entrusting me to the Inquisition. I am to travel with you back to Skyhold and assist in whatever way I can."

Cullen's mouth moved but no words came out.

"What is it you really want this time?" Solana asked.

"As I told you, this was not my doing."

"Just like it was not your doing the last time?"

"It was not."

"She's a spy." Leliana had approached without making a sound. She glared unblinkingly at Morrigan.

Cullen's upper lip curled. "Of course. Celene has seen the might of the Inquisition here tonight. She's bound to send someone to keep an eye on us."

Morrigan inclined her head to Leliana. Whether in greeting or acknowledging she was correct, Solana couldn't tell. "Regardless, none of us has much say in the matter. Unless you would challenge the empress's authority so soon after saving her life?"

"What does Max say about this?" Solana wanted to know.

"Your inquisitor welcomes my assistance."

"Of course he does," Cullen mumbled. Max did have a habit of recruiting every person who offered. Usually his recruits were people Leliana could use in her networks, but that would never be the case for Morrigan.

Now Morrigan and Leliana eyed each other in some silent battle of wills. They had only tolerated one another all those years ago for Solana's sake. The look in Leliana's eyes said she wasn't above sending assassins to deal with Morrigan if she stepped out of line.

Morrigan's look, for its part, said "You are welcome to try."

* * *

The moon was full, lighting the creepers that covered almost every one of the opalescent buildings they passed as the carriage rolled towards their accommodation in the High Quarter. Everything was clean and bright and crisp.

Solana was feeling a little steadier. Cullen had insisted on getting her a drink of water before they left the palace, and had returned with both the water and a serviette full of candied nuts.

Had he seen her enjoying them earlier? Or was it just a coincidence?

As with the night before, they would be staying at the vacant lodgings of a friend of the Inquisition. Leliana's or Josephine's or perhaps just an ally, Solana couldn't keep track.

It was a giant building with a sweeping staircase up to the entrance where elven servants stood waiting for their arrival. The air smelled of cherries and mint, and some unfamiliar night-blossoming flower that adorned the banister.

Cullen let out a breath at the splendor of it as he climbed out of the carriage. Josephine went ahead to make introductions. Leliana followed, throwing a nervous glance at Morrigan's carriage as it rolled up beside theirs.

Everyone else slowly ascended the stairs, admiring the garden and the grand building that rose above them.

Solana was in the middle of the staircase when the dizziness returned. It came in a wave, crashing over her. She lost the feeling in her legs and reality seemed to recede from her, darkness closing in from the edges of her vision. And then she was falling.

"Solana!"

Cullen's call drew the attention of everyone else. He caught her before she could crack her head on the stairs. She couldn't see much of his features, but she didn't have to to know she'd frightened him.

"Sorry. I'm alright. It's just been a long night."

He was gazing down at her, one hand supporting her neck, the other at her waist. She could hear Leliana at the top of the stairs, demanding to know what had happened.

"I'm fine!" she called back. She pushed against Cullen, trying to get to her feet. He kept the arm around her and truthfully she was grateful for the support as they rose up again. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."

"I'm going to take her to bed," Cullen said. Then he seemed to realise the meaning some might take from those words and cleared his throat. "I'm going to see her to her bedchambers. Where are they please?"

* * *

"Thank you. I don't know what's come over me."

Cullen had helped her up three flights of stairs to the room that a servant had indicated was hers.

"You saved all those men," he said softly.

"I _am_ the Hero."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a jagged almost-smile.

The staff had already lit the lamps and the room was bathed in a warm glow. It was large but not quite as large as the rooms they'd had the night before. There was a fireplace and tall windows with heavy velvet curtains. The bed was done up in typical Orlesian splendour. There were satin drapings and more pillows than she could count at a glance.

Cullen set her on the edge of the bed, then moved aside the thick down bedclothes for her. She didn't have to be prompted. Her body felt impossibly heavy. The pillows were like a warm hug as she sank into them.

He covered her and when she looked up into his face, she was surprised by the tenderness she found there. His cold hand brushed her cheek and it took a moment for her to realise he was slowly removing the pins from her hair.

"You don't have to…"

"It's alright. I wouldn't want you to stab yourself in your sleep."

Her hair fell down to her shoulders and she didn't miss the fact that he hadn't quite stopped touching it. Gentle caresses, so light as to be excused as accidental. She closed her eyes, enjoying the attention.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" she asked him. "I mean, you know, aside from the violence."

He chuckled. "No."

"It looked like you received quite a bit of attention."

"None of it welcome."

Warmth surged through her.

There was a knock at the door and Cullen rose to greet the servants who had brought her baggage up from the coach.

Once they'd left, he hovered by the door. "You'll want your nightclothes… I… I imagine."

Getting out of this horrid Inquisition tunic was appealing, but she didn't know how to ask Cullen for help. Aside from the obvious, if he saw that she truly felt too weak to dress herself…

He'd already bent and she heard the clinking of bottles before she realised what he was doing.

The phial of lyrium potion cast an eerie blue on his face as he rose.

"Cullen…"

He stared down at it, rolling it in his hand as if entranced by its vivid colour. "Strange, isn't it? That one thing would affect us both so differently?"

The lyrium sang. It was a tune quite different from The Calling. It sounded like the wind whistling through a craggy pass.

His gaze moved to her and he offered her a sad smile. "This should make you feel stronger. If I understand a mana drain correctly?"

She held out her hand for the potion and he took it to her, his fingers brushing hers as he passed her the bottle.

"Thank you."

"I should..." he gestured towards the door. "That is, if you will be okay?"

She didn't want him to go. She wanted him to come back to her side, to keep touching her, to hold her until the room stopped spinning. _Selfish._ "Yes, thank you."

"Goodnight, Solana."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Cullen's heart was still pounding when he reached the landing. That he was there at all felt like a miracle.

He played in his head what might have happened. He might have helped her disrobe under the pretense of getting her into something more comfortable. After all, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen… felt… it all before. He closed his eyes, swallowed. From there it might have taken no more than a few gentle words and he might have lain beside her for the rest of the night, comforting her, kissing her, caressing her…

But he had miraculously resisted. It would have felt too much like taking advantage. This had been an occasion where she'd needed a friend, not a lover. And he was pleased with himself for managing to provide her with that.

Thank Andraste she had been there tonight. They could have lost so many people... Every time he thought he knew how incredible she was, she surprised him.

Raised voices halted him at the top of the final flight of stairs.

"Then explain this!" Leliana's voice.

"I told you," the Witch was saying. "I did nothing."

"Liar."

He moved down slowly, treading carefully so as not to alert the women to his presence. They were standing in the entrance hall. Leliana was facing away from him with her hands on her hips. Morrigan was opposite her, with her arms folded across her chest. He'd expected to find everyone else there too, but it seemed they had scattered. There wasn't even a servant in sight.

"Really Leliana, I was hoping you'd found some refinement in the years since we last saw each other, it seems I was mistaken."

"Oh, you're one to talk of refinement, insinuating yourself on the palace like a… a… parasite. Then imagining you might do the same to the Inquisition? What's your plan? Or was this it, revenge?"

"Revenge? Whatever for?"

"I know you two argued, the night before we ended the Blight."

"Oh, do you? And pray tell what did we _argue_ about?"

Leliana was silent.

"She hasn't told you? "Morrigan chuckled darkly. "I did nothing but offer her a chance at a life with the man she loved."

"What?" Leliana's entire stance changed. Her arms dropped to her side.

 _Oh, Maker._ Solana had specifically told him not to say anything to Leliana. How cruel that she should find out about the witch's offer like this?

"One or the other was destined to die," Morrigan said in a sing-song voice, she seemed to take pleasure in the revelation. "I told her it needn't be that way."

He had to speak, before Morrigan made Solana out to be some sort of traitor. "You wanted to perform blood magic."

Leliana spun to face him. Her eyes were wide, all colour had drained from her face and he immediately regretted saying anything.

Morrigan didn't miss a beat. "Oh, so she told _you_ did she?"

The spymaster's face was usually difficult to read. Not now. It looked as if she'd been betrayed.

"Yes, I wanted to perform a ritual," Morrigan said. "Do you know what happens when an archdemon dies? I'll tell you. Its essence flies from its body into the first blighted thing it encounters. Be it darkspawn, warden or… warden's spawn. If I had conceived a child with the Therin boy that night, the child would have contained the soul of the old god and he and your Hero could have lived happily ever after. But, she declined. And now his blood is lost."

Leliana turned back to her. "You're disgusting," she spat.

"For wanting to save your friend?"

"Oh please. You didn't want to save him. You wanted his blood. His royal blood. That's all you cared about."

"And what would you have me care about? Oh, yes, I recall." She smiled and it was not a smile Cullen liked.

"Leave," Leliana said.

Anyone else Cullen knew would have turned pale and made for the exit as fast as possible had they heard that word, said like that, from Lady Nightingale. But the witch's smile grew.

"You were inseparable were you not? In fact, I'd go so far as to say you were attached… at the hip. No wonder she did not wish to tell you."

Cullen moved forward, hand drifting to his sword. "That's enough."

"Oh look, the big man comes to the rescue." Morrigan mocked him. "No need. I would prefer to travel ahead. I shall meet the rest of you at Skyhold."

She swept away, Leliana watching her until the moment the door closed. He was half prepared for her to turn her wrath on him, but she sighed heavily and hung her head.

"I'm sorry that you had to see that."

"You didn't get on well when you were travelling together I take it?"

Leliana gave a hollow laugh and crossed the hall, disappearing through an archway into an adjoining room.

Cullen followed. It seemed to be a drawing room, and Leliana made her way to the small bar on the far end of it. "She's a vile fiend."

She ducked and brought out a bottle of some amber-coloured liquid. She poured two drinks, pushing one across the bar to Cullen without asking.

"It wasn't like she implied. We were not involved in that way. We were friends."

He took a sip of the burning liquid.

She could say what she wanted, he'd had his suspicions for some time. He couldn't have gotten as far as he had in the military without being able to read people.

"It wasn't Alistair you were in love with."

She met his gaze, clearly surprised but keeping her expression controlled. She downed the contents of her glass. "Is this going to cause problems between us?"

"You tell me."

She eyed him again as if trying to size him up. Then sighed. "I'd never known friendship like that. The woman who trained me, who made me what I am, came close. But she was a lie, as was her affection. How ironic that her betrayal is what lead me to Solona's side. She's saved my life more times than I can count. And when she learned of my own duplicity, that I was no innocent Chantry sister as I had claimed, she did not turn me away. In fact she helped me, she reassured me, and she stood up for me. Up until that time, I had always believed that cruelty and strength were intertwined, that I could never be strong enough to stand alone unless I became cruel. But Solana is the strongest person I know, and also the kindest." She filled up her glass again and took a long sip. "I hold no illusions, Commander. She has a preference for..." she smirked. "Let me say only that I realise I am ill-equipped to pursue anything but friendship. And if she knew I'd ever wanted more, I believe she would be mortified."

"She won't hear it from me." Maker forbid. He could hardly manage to profess his own feelings. This entire conversation made him deeply uncomfortable.

Leliana swirled the liquid in her glass. "It might not matter much soon."

"There is a chance all will be well." He said it because he had to. But a cold emptiness in his stomach told him that was unlikely. He didn't want to think on it, that he'd have to send her against an army of elite soldiers and demons, that even if she somehow survived the battle, her own blood might bring her end.

"Another drink, Commander?

"Please."

* * *

A/N So there we go, a nice softened Leliana and a reason she went psycho on the Commander's ass a few chapters ago.


	25. The light is here

Cullen did not look himself.

He was paler than usual, his eyes were red, and he glared out the window of the carriage as if it had personally insulted his honour.

"Are you okay?" Solana asked.

He startled. "What? Yes. Yes, fine."

Leliana giggled, a sound that Solana couldn't recall hearing in years. Cullen shifted his glare to her, where she sat at the opposite window.

"The Commander and I stayed up drinking last night."

Solana blinked and looked to Cullen for confirmation. He rolled his eyes and rested his head back against the seat. "An error on my part."

"You…" Solana still couldn't wrap her head around it. "What were the stakes?"

His bleary eyes came to rest on her again, "What?"

"The stakes? The bet? How did she convince you?"

"Oh, this is too good." Josephine, who was seated between Solana and Leliana, put her hands on her knees and leaned forward. "You're hungover?"

"I don't see how this is entertaining," Cullen muttered.

"Not entertaining," the ambassador said quickly. "More like… a curiosity. One I didn't expect to observe in my lifetime."

"It is, isn't it?" Leliana agreed. "Like the Gates of Minrathous."

"Or the ruins of Arlathan," Josephine added.

Cullen groaned.

While Josephine and Leliana continued to laugh and add names of great marvels to their list, Solana gently touched Cullen's knee.

He tensed at the touch, but didn't pull away.

"I have some elfroot elixir in my pack?" she offered.

He appeared to consider this carefully, before nodding.

* * *

They made good time back to Skyhold, as Max had promised. They retrieved their horses from the estate where they'd left them, and chose to forgo the luxurious accommodation, rather travelling through the night, stopping only to feed and water the horses.

Josephine seemed less concerned with appearances now that their mission to impress the Orlesian nobles was behind them, which suited Solana just fine. She was accustomed to this kind of travel, it made her feel like she was doing something.

There was a welcoming committee when they rode through the gates.

People had heard of their victory at the palace and the Orlesian members of the Inquisition seemed particularly grateful that their civil war was over. The courtyard was festive. There was music, food and even a bit of dancing.

It reminded Solana too much of the night Haven fell.

She was on her way to the tavern – ironically probably one of the quieter places at that moment – when Cassandra pushed through the crowd towards her. "Hero!"

Solana had long since given up trying to convince the woman to call her by her name.

"I was hoping I'd catch you," Cassandra said. She seemed a little out of breath. "Do you have a moment?"

There was a roar of cheering behind Solana. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Iron Bull was now drunkenly balancing along the courtyard wall while his crew cheered him on. The sad thing was that wasn't even the most ridiculous of the antics she'd seen in the last few minutes.

"I believe I do," she told the Seeker.

Cassandra tilted her head to indicate the stairs up to the ramparts and Solana followed her as Bull lost his footing and tumbled down to land on some unfortunate person's tent below.

"I'm okay!" He called up to his men.

Cassandra rolled her eyes and shook her head but didn't comment.

"What's on your mind?" Solana asked. She thought she had a good idea. Cassandra was probably concerned about how Cullen had handled the trip.

"Oh, we haven't spoken in some time," Cassandra said casually. She strode briskly, and Solana had to trot to keep up.

"We've never spoken." She eyed the Seeker, hoping that she didn't take offense. It was simply the truth. They spoke when they needed to. They'd never been particularly friendly.

Cassandra laughed, but it wasn't a normal laugh. It cut off far too early. She was nervous about something.

"What's the matter?" Solana prompted.

"Nothing's the matter."

"Is this about Max?"

"Max?" Cassandra glanced at her. "Why would it be about Max? Should it be about Max? Is there something I should know?"

Well, aside from the fact that half of Orlais seemed to think she was sleeping with him… rather not let that one slip. Cassandra was scary on a normal day.

"Relax, Cassandra. _You_ wanted to talk to me, remember?"

"Ah, yes."

They'd reached one of the towers and couldn't walk any further along the ramparts. Cassandra turned, with her hands behind her back and Solana thought she might finally say what was on her mind, then she leaned against the tower door. It swung open and she smiled, indicating that Solana should follow her inside.

Solana found herself standing in someone's bedroom. A woven carpet ran across the length of it. There was a massive four-poster bed against the one wall, but the most interesting feature was a small garden of pot plants in the corner. As with Cullen's room, part of the roof was missing. Beams of light flowed through this hole onto the plants, creating a pleasing display.

"The garden was Celeste's idea," a voice said.

Solana had to squint into the recesses of the room to see him, although she'd recognised the voice instantly.

Cullen was standing in the corner opposite the garden, with his hands folded on his sword hilt. "I hope you like it."

She didn't understand.

Cassandra moved passed her to run a hand across the dresser near the bed. "It's missing a bottom drawer, but I've had it checked and there are no… occupants."

"Occupants?" Solana repeated, dumbly.

"Oh, you know, beetles, termites, that sort of thing." She cringed at the thought.

Cullen moved a little further into the room and patted an ornate wardrobe that Solana hadn't even noticed lurking in the shadows. "This was a bit of a mission to get up here, but I think you'll like what I've done with it."

"Done with it?"

"Come see."

She went to join him. He opened the doors to reveal not clothing, but an array of potions. He indicated the top shelf. "I know elf root is a favourite, so I had more of those made up than the others. But I'm told that this one," his hand moved down to indicate the second shelf, "assists with anxiety." He knelt to move aside some of the potions on the third shelf. "There are a few varieties here. The purple ones are something that helps with the nightmares. I know yours are different but-"

"Cullen."

He looked up at her and she saw a flicker of nerves in his eyes. His brow creased in concern.

"What is this?" she asked.

He looked to Cassandra. "You didn't tell her?"

"No. I thought you would want to."

He hung his head and covered his eyes. "Maker. Sorry. You must be terribly confused." He rose to his feet and looked down at her. His expression had something of the same tenderness she'd seen in Halamshiral. "This is your room, Solana."

"My room?" She backed away from him. "Cullen, I told you, I don't need a room."

"Would you honestly rather sleep in a barn?"

"I've slept rough for years. I don't need this." She looked at the bed, the dresser, the little garden again. "Surely there are people more deserving? I… this is a waste of Inquisition resources."

Cassandra was hovering by the door. "This room was uninhabitable. The Commander fixed it up himself, in his off-duty hours."

Solana looked to Cullen again. His cheeks had coloured and his eyes darted away from hers. He seemed incredibly unsure of himself now. "Yes, well, it helped to keep my mind off… other things."

"When did you do this?"

He still couldn't meet her eyes. "I started when you were in the Western Approach. I'm ashamed to say I… ran out of time. Cassandra completed it while we were visiting the palace."

"I don't know what to say…"

She moved away from Cullen, drifting into the centre of the room. "I… I've never had a space like this."

"If you don't like it…" Cullen began.

She spun back to him. "Its… its…" where were the words? She was too overwhelmed to come up with anything that adequately described how she felt. Her throat was thick with emotion. She turned around again, taking in the space, noticing for the first time that there were even pictures on the wall. A pastoral painting was mounted beside the bed, a sketch of Val Royeaux above the dresser. Her hand moved to her mouth.

They were going to leave for Adamant soon. There was a good chance she would never come back. He knew that. He'd known that at the time he'd done all this. It was more than just a gift, it was a statement of faith. It was a declaration that despite everything she'd told him, she had a future.

Or at the very least, that whatever future she did have meant something.

He cleared his throat, shifting in the shadows. "Please say something."

Cassandra stepped in. "I think she's happy, Cullen."

"I am." She spoke quickly. How could he doubt that? "I… Cullen this is incredible." _You are incredible._

"Good." He let out a breath.

"We'll leave you to get settled." Cassandra said, indicating the door. "I'll have someone bring your things up here once the celebrations quieten down."

"Thank you. Not just for the… I mean for this."

Cassandra nodded, giving her another rare full smile.

Solana was happy to see that Cullen was also smiling as he left, the smile that seemed to pull at his cheeks of its own volition, no matter how much he tried to fight it.


	26. A song in the stillness

"We've built the siege engines and readied our forces, Inquisitor. Give the word and we march on Adamant."

Cullen's face was stoic. His chin was slightly raised – an expression Solana had noticed he used to project confidence. His gaze was steady. There was nothing in his poise to indicate that he'd come to her the night before and begged her to stay.

Begged was not entirely accurate. He wasn't the kind of man who begged for anything. He'd come to her room and paced across the floor, outlining why he thought it would be better if she waited at Skyhold while the Inquisition sorted out the trouble with the Wardens.

"Adamant Fortress has withstood countless darkspawn attacks without falling," he'd said. "The Grey Wardens defending its walls are legendary warriors."

"So am I."

He'd given her a pained look and then paced back across the room. "You're but one woman."

"I won't be fighting alone."

"Yes, but…" He'd stopped to look at her as if unsure whether to continue. "In Halamshiral… after that spell…"

One healing spell had completely drained her. "This will be different."

"I don't see how."

"I know what I'm up against. I'll have potions, armour."

He'd closed his eyes as if praying for strength. "I could order you to stay."

"You know I'd never forgive you."

"A small price for your life."

He didn't understand her life was forfeit regardless.

"Cullen, I'm a Grey Warden. We stop Blights, that's what we do. I've taken vows to do this."

His nostrils had flared at that, and he'd scowled. "To the Void with your vows. Have you not given enough?"

She'd moved closer while he glared at her, and gently touched his arm. "I'm sorry."

His head had dropped, a gesture she knew as defeat.

They'd stood that way for some time, before he'd finally pulled away and left without saying anything more.

Now they stood at the war table, their army already assembling by the gates.

"Commander," Max said, meeting his gaze. "Go give the order."

Cullen nodded, and swept out of the room. He didn't look at her. She didn't expect him to.

* * *

It was the night before they reached the fortress and the entire camp seemed to be holding its breath.

They only had a day's march across the sand left to go, but Cullen had ordered them to make camp. He wanted to reach Adamant in the early evening, when the setting sun was in their favour, rather than as it was dawning. And if they camped any closer, their fires would give away their position.

He'd never been to war like this. He'd directed much smaller battles. This kind of thing, he'd studied in books. Oh, he'd studied it in books for _years_ , but would everything he'd learned have practical application? His palms were sweating. Everything was sweating. It was too darn hot in this desert.

Heat stroke was a very real concern if they marched during the day like he intended to.

Had he thought this through enough?

Even the evening meal was somber. He tried not to show how nervous he was, he knew his men would take their lead from his mood. But how could he not be terrified when _she_ was going straight into the line of fire?

Solana ate very little, possibly as nervous as he was. She drank only water – although some of the men drank to the battle ahead with kegs of ale, as was Ferelden tradition. He saw her take one of the potions he'd given her too – one for anxiety – and that frightened him more.

The fires burned low. Raucous singing turned to snoring. The Inquisitor excused himself to go to sleep. Even The Iron Bull turned in. Solana sat by the fire, the flickering flames moving across her face, her eyes downcast. And then, they were alone.

The desert had cooled. A little heat rose off the baked sand. Overhead the stars glittered brightly.

This could very well be their last night together.

As if she had the same thought, her eyes rose to his. "Big day tomorrow, aren't you going to sleep?"

He poked the fire. "I… I doubt I'll be able to."

Her look said that she understood. She knew what it was like, having the lives of so many in your hands, knowing that one mistake on your part could get them all killed.

"You should rest," he said.

"I'm not tired."

She was probably feeling the same as him. Like a coiled spring.

"We could always…" No, it was stupid. But now she was looking at him expectantly. "I have a pack of cards. We could play a game of Wicked Grace?"

"Oh no, thank you," she said.

Right. Of course. Why would she want to spend her last night playing a Maker-forsaken game with hi-

"We could play chess?" she offered

His heart gave a thud. "I… I'm afraid I didn't think to bring my board."

"I think Dorian has a travel set. Hold on." She scrambled to her feet and then dashed off between the tents. Cullen was glad of her quick escape, it meant she didn't see him grinning like a fool.

* * *

"I must warn you, I'm very good at this," he said as she settled down next to him with the little ivory and mahogany set she'd somehow wrestled from the necromancer.

Her soft lips curved. "We'll see."

As they played, he watched the gentle breeze ruffle her hair, the firelight dance across her exposed collarbone, the moonlight shining off her pale hands. She was sitting across from him with her arms wrapped around her knees, chewing on her bottom lip and all he could think was how badly he wanted her.

Would she stop him if he tipped over the board, leaned forward and kissed her? Would she be opposed to spending these last hours wrapped in one another? He wanted desperately to touch her, to commit every part of her to memory.

And yet something prevented him.

"Your turn." She looked up and held his gaze a little too long.

 _This was better._

That was the truth of it. The physical sensations would be like getting lost in a dream. He could touch her and taste her but that wouldn't last. The night would slip away too fast. Here, this was real. This was every moment stretched to its full capacity. Watching her contemplate the board, watching her fidget with her nails, the way she cursed when he bested her, the way she sighed when he caught wind of her strategy, the way she laughed when she took one of his pieces. Simply being with her, like this. It was perfect.

"No!" She shouted, suddenly, sending a jolt right through him. She gestured angrily at the board. "I left it wide open for you. Why didn't you take that piece? It's the third time it's happened."

His heart was still skittering. "You were leaving yourself open intentionally?"

"Well yes, I…" Even in the firelight, he could see she'd coloured.

"You're not trying to… let me win?" Annoyance surged in his chest. "You do not need _placate_ me."

"That's not… that's not what I was doing."

"I am perfectly capable of winning on my own."

"So why didn't you move into the spaces I left for you?"

Because he'd seen them, assumed they were unintentional and had ignored them because… because he hadn't wanted the game to end.

They eyed each other. Her lips were parted, the breeze teased at her robes, pulling them against her figure. _Maker_.

She blinked and her gaze dropped. "I see."

What did she see? Her slender fingers moved to hover over the board again.

"I'm two moves from winning, Commander," she said quietly.

 _Commander._ Her face was cloaked in shadow. How did he read that? What was she saying?

He didn't have to look at the board to know she was telling the truth.

"Will you go to bed if I win?" she asked.

He hesitated before answering. "Do you… want me to?"

"No."

"Then I won't."

"Tomorrow will be a trying day. I don't want to keep you from your - "

"Make your move, Solana."

She did. And as predicted, it took her two moves to put him into checkmate.

Without saying a word, he set up the board again.

* * *

Dawn smelled like ice, even all the way out here. The horizon was glowing turquoise and the moon was a yellow orb, hovering just out of reach.

Solana admired Cullen as he contemplated his next move. His elbows were on his knees and his chin rested on his hand. He had the best cheekbones. She'd never noticed that before. She'd always been focused on his mouth. That mouth. The way it curved up at the edges when he spoke to asymmetrical smile.

His cheeks were brushed with morning stubble. It reminded her of another night, another campfire, a dawn when she'd jerked awake to find him herself cradled against him. He had pressed kisses against her forehead and whispered that the watch would be changing soon.

This night wasn't like that night. And yet, in every important way, it was.

He caught her staring and gave her a small smile. "Shouldn't you be watching the board?"

"I don't need to. You moved your knight."

"You've got me all figured out have you?"

It was their fifth game. Or, perhaps, sixth. She'd learned his patterns as well as he'd learned hers.

"You always go in for the –" she glanced at the board and blinked.

He leaned back, folding his arms. "Check mate."

It was the second game he'd won, or perhaps the third. "Congratulations," she said.

She started rearranging the board again. He halted her with a hand on hers.

She knew he was right. The others would be up soon. They had a day of marching and then a night of fighting. There wasn't time for another game.

When she finally lifted her eyes to meet his, the look of resignation she'd been expecting was absent. Instead, there was only desire, hunger.

The hand that had halted hers didn't move, but the other brushed her hair aside. Her stomach clenched, her breath stopped. He swept the board from the log between them. Dorian's precious ivory pieces scattered into the sand.

Cullen leaned forward and –

"Sir?"

He pulled away. Her heart was still hammering. She ducked to gather up the pieces as the watchman made his report.

* * *

Solana squinted at the blur on the horizon. It was, apparently, Adamant. But the heat rising off the sand distorted the air and she couldn't make it out clearly. Cullen's army was moving into formation. She would be riding up front with Hawke, Dorian, Blackwall, Iron Bull and Max. She and Hawke would take turns casting barriers over their party and the siege engine.

Everything was abnormally hushed. With so many surrounding her, she shouldn't have been able to hear the wind.

"How was chess?" Dorian broke the silence. He was looking at his feet and from what she could tell he was trying, in vain, to kick the sand off his boots.

"Good. Thank you." She sensed the eyes of the others on her.

"Chess? Is that a code word?" Bull inquired.

"I am told that the Hero stayed up all night playing 'chess' with the Commander." Dorian's mustache twitched.

"Oh, chess is it?" Blackwall teased.

"Not that any of you will believe me, but yes. That's precisely what we did."

Hawke was leaning against his horse with his arms folded. The horse had its head stuck into a bag and was munching away happily, seemingly unaware of the mage.

"What is the deal with you two? Varric said –"

Someone cleared their throat behind Solana and she spun to find Cullen shifting awkwardly. His hands moved from his sword hilt to his side, to behind his back, to the sword hilt again in a matter of moments.

"Talk of the demon," Hawke said with an eye-roll. "You know I have this theory about Templars and their hearing…"

"Do you have a moment?" Cullen asked Solana, eyes finally focusing on hers.

"Of course."

She heard Bull say something to Dorian that she didn't quite catch as she walked away with Cullen. Bawdy laughter followed.

Cullen was still shifting uneasily.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything important?" He eventually asked, once they were standing a little apart from the rest of the army.

It was clear he wanted to know what they'd been saying about him, but was too polite to ask. She considered making up something embarrassing just to get a reaction, but looking at how tense he was she decided against it.

"No. I was simply telling them how good you are at chess."

A smile pulled at his mouth and he shook his head. "You won more than half of our games."

"I _am_ the Hero of Ferelden."

"So you keep saying."

"I like reminding you."

"You don't need to remind me."

"Yes, I do." She stepped closer. She wanted to touch him. His eyes were downcast now. How easy it would be to touch his cheek reassuringly, or take his hand. Instead she simply looked into his face. "I'm going to be fine, Cullen. You don't have to worry about me."

She thought she did a good job of projecting confidence she didn't feel.

He sighed, gazing out towards Adamant again. "I… I had a whole speech prepared for this."

She waited for him to find his words, heart pounding harder with every long minute. Eventually he reached into his pocket and withdrew a silver piece. It glinted in the desert sun.

"My brother gave this to me when I joined the Templars. For luck. I don't even think it's anything special. I think he just happened to have it on him."

"I thought the Chantry was against lucky charms?"

"Oh, it is."

His gaze flicked to hers briefly before returning to the site of their enemy, still a few hours' march away. "I don't know what kind of luck it's brought me. Some days I feel cursed. Kinloch, Kirkwall… everything in between." He shook his head. "And yet, somehow I've survived. Perhaps there's something to be said for it."

He passed it to her. "I know it's not much, but it will make me feel better. When you go in there, I won't be with you. I… this is the only way I can… I'm not making any sense."

"You're making perfect sense." She accepted the coin. It was warm from sitting beside his body and her heart skittered. "It's like the blackberries, isn't it?"

His eyes grew wide and then he smiled. "Yes, yes I suppose it is."


	27. The path of fire

Fire rained from the sky. The air reeked of smoke, dust and death.

Solana's protective spell had held just long enough to get them through the door. She stumbled into the lower bailey, immediately finding herself face-to-face with a shade. She froze it solid and Bull smashed it into a thousand pieces. There wasn't time to celebrate. The entire courtyard was overrun.

Max was fighting two of the demons, slashing at them with a fiery sword. A third moved in to flank him and she attacked it with lightning. The demon shrieked. It spun towards her, but the smell of carrion alerted her to another behind her. She closed her eyes and tapped into the heat of her fear. Her palms grew warm. She brought them together and then ripped them apart, causing a rush of fire to rise up around her. The thing behind her – whatever it had been – dissolved in screeching pain. The shade that had been advancing disintegrated.

There was shouting from above, panicked Wardens reporting that the Inquisition had breached the defences. And then a missile, a burning comet from one of the Inquisition trebuchets, smashed through a nearby wall. Solana dived aside as a chunk of dark jetstone flew at her.

Hawke caught her, laughing. "Well hopefully Cullen doesn't kill us before the demons do."

"Hold on to that sense of humour."

"I intend to."

She was righting herself when Cullen appeared at the entrance. "All right, Inquisitor, you have your way in."

Hawke started laughing again. "What did I say about Templar hearing?"

If Cullen heard that comment, however, he ignored it. He was scowling and his fists were clenched. He spoke directly to Max. "We'll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can."

"We'll be fine," Max assured him. "Just keep the men safe."

"We'll do what we have to, Inquisitor."

As if to punctuate his sentence, someone fell screaming from the battlements. Solana looked up to see the demon responsible giving a roar as if in victory.

Cullen shook his head. "There's too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can't get a foothold. If you can clear out the enemies on the battlement, we'll clear your advance."

He glanced at Solana. For one instant, his guard dropped. His face seemed vulnerable. He was the lover, not the solider. And then it rectified itself. He turned without another word and jogged back to join his men.

* * *

Solana had been prepared for battle. What she hadn't been prepared for was fighting people wearing _her_ uniform. Did Blackwall feel the same? He cut through his enemies like they were no more than darkspawn. She saw him cleave one man from the collarbone to beneath his right arm. The Iron Bull roared in delight at this.

She hadn't been a Grey Warden long before the slaughter at Ostragar, but even that was enough to know the sacrifice they'd each chosen to make. These warriors weren't under Corypheus's thrall, they weren't doing this because they had no choice, they were doing this because they felt it was right, because they thought they were saving the world.

If it hadn't been for the blood magic horrors she'd seen during the Blight, perhaps she might even have been among them.

The Inquisition party rushed along the passages, trying to find a way up to the battlements to help as Cullen had asked. They rounded a corner. Down in the main bailey, three lone Wardens were bravely fighting off their mage brethren.

"Stay back! We won't be sacrificed to some insane ritual!"

Max drove past Solana, leaping over the balustrade to join the fray. Solana tore after him, casting a barrier around them both as glyphs appeared beneath their feet. Her foot landed on the edge of one. Spikes of ice erupted from the ground. She was knocked aside and then she was suddenly surrounded by Shades. They had flooded out of nowhere. Two of them smashed against her barrier, sending a jolt through her. No time. It wouldn't hold long. She raised her staff and cried out in desperation. Dark clouds gathered just above her. It was like the storm, the raging tempest she was summoning from the air, sucked energy directly from her into its heart. There was a moment of uncertainty. A moment in which she stared directly into the empty eyes of a Shade. Then her storm broke. It lashed out with raw power, sending a whiplash of jagged electricity through her, through the shades, through the nearby Wardens.

Blackwall appeared at her side, as she was sucking in air. He felled the two most resilient shades. One with a slash of his broadsword and the other with a swift kick.

"Nicely done," he said, patting her on the shoulder.

The courtyard was quiet now. The surviving Warden warriors backed away from Max as he advanced towards them. His sword was glistening with blood.

"Keep your distance!" One of them called, waving an axe.

"You're being fools!" Blackwall yelled suddenly. She startled. She'd never heard him raise his voice before. "Do you think the Hero of Ferelden and I would join the Inquisition if it hated all Wardens?"

As one the thee warriors turned to look at her. They hadn't recognised her before and she was at once self-conscious. This wasn't what a Hero was supposed to look like, sweating, scratched up, hair already in a tangled mess.

But her presence did seem to do something. They lowered their weapons.

"Alright, my men will stay back," one who must have been their captain said. "We want no part of this. Deal with Clarel as you must."

* * *

They fought their way long the battlements. Every muscle in Solana's body was aching from the effort and she was starting to feel dizzy. For once, she was grateful for the Inquisitor's seemingly boundless energy. It inspired her to keep pushing.

The Wardens up here shot fiery arrows rather than coming at her with swords. It was easier to deflect and in the time it took for them to draw, she could disable them with a spell.

She left the killing to the others.

They staggered into one of the tower rooms, taking a brief respite to catch their breath. Through a crack in the outer wall, Solana could make out the glowing sulphur pits in the distance. She perched on a crate as the Inquisitor passed around potions he'd found in a Warden cache.

She'd already taken enough lyrium to put Cullen into overdose and she pocketed another bottle.

"We're doing well," Max said, before downing a healing elixir.

Solana watched as his shoulder wound stitched itself closed.

"Is that sarcasm, Inquisitor?" Dorian queried. He leaned against a wall and mopped sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve. His upper lip was glistening. His mustache was drooping.

"Not at all."

"He means none of us have died yet," Bull said, examining a cut on his abdomen as if deciding whether it was worth taking a healing potion now or saving it for later. He palmed the potion, and then stuck it into a pouch on his belt.

Blackwall pinched the bridge of his nose. "We'd best press on. The soldiers won't last long."

Solana's heart clenched painfully. Cullen was out there somewhere fighting. She stood. "Let's go."

* * *

When they opened the door, Solana wished she'd taken more of a break.

A handful of Inquisition soldiers were desperately trying to bring down a Pride demon.

Its massive spiked body danced with roar energy and for one terrible moment, Solana was flung back into the Harrowing Chamber at the Circle, to Uldred's final transformation. The maleficar had taken on that same shape. He'd stood amidst the crumpled bodies of the mages he'd tortured – some corpses, some barely breathing. And he'd tried to make her join him.

She was frozen, heart drumming, blood roaring in her ears. Everything in her was telling her to run back into the relatively safety of the tower room.

But Max charged ahead, yelling for the Inquisition soldiers to retreat, and the others followed. A swath of red magic covered The Iron Bull and he roared, a terrifying guttural battle cry.

 _Get a hold on yourself._

Solana pushed herself forward. She'd defeated Uldred, she'd defeat this one too.

The ground around the Pride Demon sparkled with ice mines. Solana saw Max's face and she knew what he was planning to do. He pulled a potion of out his pack, then dashed across one of the glyphs. It triggered. Spikes of ice slammed into him, tearing his flesh. But he was ready. He fell to his knees before the demon, for one instant a bloody mess. Then he downed the potion and, as his body was still being repaired, he leaped at the thing, unsheathing his sword in mid-air, to plunge it into the demon's grey flesh.

Blackwall followed him, the ground now clear, slashing at the demon's legs with his mighty broadsword. Hawke sprinted past them all, vaulting onto a stack of crates against the parapet. Blue magic shot from his palms and Solana thought he was casting ice at the demon, but the spell hit Max and twirled around him like a wisp, healing the remaining injuries.

Solana kept her distance, throwing fire balls. The first few were deflected by the demon's plated armouring, but then its broad shoulders caught light and flames chased across its upper body. It screamed in torment, spinning towards her.

She backed away, breath stuck in her chest. It was looking right at her. Electricity sparked from its hand into a mighty whip. It lashed out and she dived to the side, dropping into a roll, narrowly avoiding electrocution.

"Hey! Big Guy! Over here!" Bull taunted it. Dorian, standing beside him, sent forth an array of bright sparks from his staff that hit the demon's side.

 _Sparkler._ Varric's pet name for the mage suddenly made a lot of sense.

Solana scrambled to her feet as the creature turned to Bull and Dorian. It hardly appeared to notice Max and Blackwall hacking at its legs, and every time it moved, it kicked them aside.

Bull leaned forward, gritting his teeth, and he looked like his namesake. Then, with another mighty roar, he ran forward, leaping smoothly over the remaining mines and swinging his axe into the demon's abdomen. The demon threw its head back in a howl that turned Solana's insides to mush. It swiped at Max, sending him flying along the ground. Bull had his axe buried in the demon's chest and was hanging from it, whooping with joy.

While Max was out of the way, Dorian set a fire glyph beneath the demon's foot and it burst into flame. The demon stomped, trying in vain to put the magical fire out. Blackwall dodged aside, but wasn't quite quick enough. The edge of a foot caught him and he was knocked to his knees. He didn't have time to get out of the way as it came down again.

Solana cast a desperate barrier. The mighty foot landed.

"Blackwall!"

Her barrier contracted, holding the pressure of the demon's tread. Blackwall curled into a ball within the bubble of her magic. And then the air pulled taut. The crack of magic reverberated through her skull. She thought she'd been hit by the whip, but there was no pain. Green light blossomed over the Pride Demon's head. It was frozen, foot in mid-air.

Max was in a crouch, holding out his left arm before him. She could see from the movement of his shoulders that he was panting. Whatever he'd done with that mark of his, had been draining.

"Quick, we don't have much time," he gasped.

Blackwall rolled out from under the foot.

"Everyone move!" Solana yelled.

She remembered Uldred. She focussed on what he'd done to the mages, to her home, to Cullen. She could feel the fire rising within her. Anger and pain swirling around and within each other. She cast forward, at the stunned demon and everything in her line of sight exploded into flame.

Then everything went black.

She came to in Hawke's arms. Blackwall was holding a potion to her lips.

"There you go," he said, his beard smiling.

"How long was I –"

"Only a moment."

"The demon –"

"Gone."

She struggled to sit. That same dizziness that she'd felt in Halamshiral had returned.

 _No, not here, not now._

Her surroundings blurred into focus. Max was examining the charred carcass of the demon. He liked collecting rare reagents. Dorian was tending to Bull. It looked like they were trying to reset his shoulder.

"So much for the Hero of Ferelden," she muttered.

"You defeated the monster, I think you can keep the title," Hawke said with a smile, but it didn't carry to his eyes. He seemed concerned. He knew, like she did, that a mana drain wasn't supposed to knock you so hard.

She turned from him. "Clarel. We need to get to…"

Blackwall helped her to her feet. She hoped he didn't notice how unsteady she still felt.

* * *

A/N Thank you for bearing with me through all of those action scenes! They are my *worst* to write, so this chapter was an exercise in torture :P (and a big thanks to Elhariah again for the help)

We're coming on to the end of the story now. Well... the end of this _part_ of the story. I've had to use a lot of stuff from the game in this chapter and the next, which I hate doing because it doesn't feel very creative. So, standard disclaimer, I don't own any of that stuff ;).

I plan to continue with the regular posting until the end of this _part_ of the story (let's call it Book One?) which should, in theory, be Saturday and then I'll be taking a little bit of a breather to plan the next bit. Thanks as always for all of the comments etc, it really means so much to me! I'll do a proper thank you note at the end of the final (for now) chapter at the end of the week.


	28. Into the valley of dreams

Fires burned in massive braziers, lighting the courtyard where the Warden mages were already performing their dark ritual. A number of warriors stood guard, the magic playing off their bright armour.

Clarel and Livius addressed them from a gallery high above. Clarel was just as regal as Solana remembered. Livius was her malicious consort, fingering his staff as if it represented the power he'd been promised.

No one had noticed their party's intrusion yet.

A woman joined Clarel and Livius while Max and Hawke were debating strategy in murmurs. Solana had to squint to see her. The Chantry insignia was emblazoned on her forehead and Solana suddenly recognised her as one of the tranquil mages Falin and Cassey had been seeking to protect.

Solana was still dazed from her encounter with the Pride Demon so she didn't understand.

The tranquil knelt before Clarel, then stood. It happened so fast, in the blink of an eye. Clarel brought a knife around and slit the woman's throat.

"No!" Max ran forward, strategy forgotten and the others followed. Black spots were pressing in on Solana's vision again, bile was rising in her throat, but she forced herself forward with the others.

"Stop them!" Livius shouted. "We must complete the ritual!"

Solana's grip tightened on her staff. Weak as she felt, she would fight them. She had to. She couldn't let them go after the Old Gods, she couldn't let them start a Blight. Even if it cost her her life.

Max held up his hand to halt them and she skid to a stop. He strode forward alone.

Blood was roaring in Solana's ears. What did he mean to do? He couldn't hope to face them on his own?

The Wardens turned. They too were tensed, ready to fight. The magic of their half-cast ritual sparkled green behind them, powered by the blood of the tranquil.

And there was Cassey. Her mouth was in a firm line, her grip on her staff mirrored Solana's. She would strike Max down as soon as the order was given, and Solana knew she'd have to stop her.

"Clarel, stop!" Max shouted, "There will be no ritual and no demon army!"

It was Livius who answered. "Then the Blight rises with no Wardens left to stop it and the whole world dies! Is that what you want?" He raised his arms for emphasis. "And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must. But do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty."

 _Sick._ The lie was so sick, twisting everything the Wardens were into its exact opposite.

Clarel's eyes narrowed as she addressed Max. "We make the sacrifices no one else will. Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them."

 _Enough._ "And then he binds your mages to Corypheus!" Solana yelled.

That seemed to startle Clarel. She took a step backwards and muttered something that Solana couldn't hear from where she stood.

Livius leaned to whisper into her ear. For a moment no one spoke, no one moved.

Then Clarel squared her shoulders. "Bring it through."

As one, the mages turned again. Green magic danced from their palms. It was so similar to Max's strange anchor magic that Solana was hardly surprised to see a rift open within their circle. She swallowed. If any of the Wardens present knew where the Old Gods slept, it was Clarel.

The instant she was bound to whatever they were pulling through that rift, Corypheus would have his Blight.

Max advanced on the Wardens, hand on his sword hilt. The rest of their party followed his lead. Bull held his axe menacingly and the lute-string twang of Dorian casting a barrier echoed across the otherwise silent courtyard.

The Warden warriors reacted, drawing together to form a wall between the Inquisition and their rift. A handful of different spells sparked among the mages, wardings and barriers and enhancements.

If this came to a fight, the Inquisition didn't stand much of a chance.

Something roared through the rift, startling even the Wardens.

"Please," Hawk called, his voice thick with emotion. "I've seen my share of blood magic. It is never worth the cost."

Solana didn't know what to say, but she knew she had to speak. They had to somehow talk the Wardens down. There were no other options.

"My name's Solana Amell," she shouted. "Some call me The Hero of Ferelden. I helped kill the last arch demon. I helped stop the last Blight." Hawke had turned to look at her. There was something strange in his expression. Had she said something wrong? She plunged on, regardless. "I am a Warden too. Believe me, if this plan would end all Blights, I would be standing there beside you. But it won't. It's a trick." She pointed at Livius. "That man's master wants you to wake the Old Gods, he's going to use Clarel to _start_ a Blight."

The Wardens turned to their Commander and Solana dared hope her words had gotten through to her.

Livius immediately jumped in, gesturing wildly to Clarel as she stared at him. She asked him something that Solana wished she could hear. Whatever it was, he didn't react well. He raised his staff.

"My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor," he called to Max as he slammed down his staff. Once. Twice. "He sent me this to welcome you!" A third time.

A familiar screech cut the night and Solana turned her gaze automatically to the sky.

The archdemon.

Chills raced through her like the touch of a wraith. _The archdemon_. Her destiny.

Out of potions, out of strength, she had no idea how she was going to fight it, but she knew she had to.

It dived, breathing red magic into the courtyard indiscriminately. Wardens and Inquisition alike leapt aside, out of its path. It circled above them again, coming to rest on one of the towers, beating its giant black wings.

It was difficult to think of a worse choice Livius could have made. Up until that moment, Clarel had been uncertain of his allegiance. Now she backed away from him in horror. He was too wrapped up in his own glory to notice. He raised his arms into the air and the beast responded, sticking out its neck and shrieking its bone-rattling call.

Clarel's chain-lighting hit Livius in the back with such force it bowled him over. Then she focused her attention on the archdemon, sending forth a blast of electricity big enough to attract its attention but not to do any major damage. It responded instantly, breathing its strange red fire in her direction, before taking flight again and cutting a swath of flame across the courtyard. Livius scrambled to his feet and, as before, made a run for it, darting up the closest flight of stairs.

The rift roared again, and another Pride Demon burst through.

"Help the Inquisitor!" Clarel shouted to her Wardens before running after him.

The Pride Demon brought its hands together and when they came apart electricity was sparking between his jagged fingers. Solana ran forward, ready to pitch in against it, Max at her side. But Cassey skid in front of them, holding out her staff to block their path.

"Cassey – " Solana didn't want to have to fight her.

The woman's look was hard and unfamiliar. "Get Clarel," she said. "We'll handle this."

There was so much Solana wanted to say to her. She wanted to apologise for getting her involved in all this, for hiding her identity, for abandoning her, for killing Falin. But there was no time.

"Thank you," Max turned to pursue the Warden Commander and Solana followed.

* * *

Clarel was facing off against Livius by the time their group reached the upper battlements.

Something had destroyed most of this walls below them – Cullen's trebuchets? Perhaps the very same blast that Solana had witnessed? Behind Clarel, the ground dropped away into darkness. One of her spells slammed into Livius, sending him skidding along the floor.

He curled in on himself in obvious agony. "You could have served a new god."

"I will never serve the Blight!" She declared.

She was raising her staff, probably to put an end to the magister, when the archdemon, as if personally insulted by her words, swooped down. It snapped her up in its giant maw and carried her in its mouth as it took flight again.

Solana stumbled backwards, momentarily frozen in horror. It landed on one of the towers and shook its head. Clarel was floppy as a ragdoll. Then it flung her to the ground. She landed hard, tumbling to a stop on the stone. A lesser person – a person without the strength of a Warden – would have been killed, but she lay there, chest heaving, bleeding out.

There was no chance to help her. The archdemon started prowling towards them like a giant cat, eyeing Max as if it intended to make him the next meal. He backed away, towards the edge that looked like it was the edge of the very world.

But Clarel wasn't done yet. She pulled herself along the ground, even as the archdemon moved above her, each giant footstep threatening to squash her. "In war, victory." She rolled onto her back. "In peace, vigilance." She lifted her hand. The last part of the vow, didn't need to be said. _In death, sacrifice._ The archdemon leapt towards Max. At the same moment, Clarel struck up at its stomach with the very last of her magic.

It screamed and tumbled forward, thrown off balance. Solana dived aside as it clawed and scrambled, slamming its huge armoured feet against the edge of the battlements. But it was too heavy. It fell into darkness, taking a good chunk of the ramparts with it. Then everything around Solana was crumbling. The ground gave way beneath her. She fell to her knees, clutching for purchase, slipping down towards the dark. She reached up desperately. Max grabbed her hand and for a moment she was running, running from a landslide of rock and rubble. And then they were falling, all of them, into the abyss.

* * *

Solana opened her eyes and blinked. Max was standing upside down above her head. She blinked again, trying to clear her vision.

"We were… falling." Hawke's voice said. She turned to try find it. He was standing sideways, on a lump of rock. They were surrounded by a green-tinged darkness and columns of broken buildings. There were stone pillars too, stretching upwards like blighted fingers. "Is this… are we dead?"

"No," she said, slowly. "This is… the Fade."

"This isn't how I remember the Fade," Hawke said.

It was different to how she remembered it too. She'd been here often, but it had always been more like a blurred pathway. Now she could see every detail, she could feel the rock beneath her feet, she could smell stagnant water. "Maybe it's because we're here physically instead of just dreaming?" She looked up at the Inquisitor. "They say you walked out of the Fade at Haven. Was it like this?"

"I don't remember."

"Well, whatever happened at Haven, we can't assume we're safe now." Hawke said. "That huge demon was right on the other side of that rift Erimond was using and there could be others." His voice pitched. He was frightened.

Solana pushed down her own fear. There'd be time enough for that later. "In the real world, the rift that the demon came through was not far away, maybe we can get out the same way?" she suggested to Max

"It beats waiting around for demons to find us, right?" He agreed.

She jumped and somersaulted. The strange gravity caught her and tugged her down to where Max was standing. She landed on her feet, but It took a moment to adjust to thinking she wasn't standing on the ceiling. Now she was the right way up she could see the sky – the twisting green and black clouds. In the distance, the Black City of myth. She had first seen it on the day of her Harrowing and it chilled her now just as it had then. If she squinted at it, it looked like there were lights on inside. What lived there now the Maker had abandoned it? Goosebumps prickled her flesh.

The last time people had physically walked through the Fade, they'd corrupted that city. At least that's what the Chantry said. They'd also started the first Blight by bringing that corruption into the mortal world.

Hawke landed beside her. "Do you think if I say Cullen's name here he'll suddenly appear with his army?"

"Please don't," she said. "It's bad enough that _we're_ stuck here."

"They're fighting demons and blood mages out there," Max pointed out, moving forward. "I don't know if it's any better."

"I don't want to think about that," she said.

Hawke patted her on the back, "Oh, don't worry, familiar territory for him."

They walked a little way in silence. They were in some kind of marshland, the water green and greasy-looking, the stones jagged and sharp. Skulls and bones littered the ground, and every here and there a candle flickered as if to accentuate them… or make a shrine of them.

Bull was muttering to himself, Blackwall looked as if he was trying to take everything in, Dorian was curiously quiet.

"Was he really that bad, when you met him?" Solana asked Hawke, trying to take her mind off her surroundings. "He's told me he was… different."

He didn't have to ask who she was talking about. He chuckled. "Yes, that's one way to put it. The first time I encountered him, he was punching a young man in the stomach for being away from his barracks."

"W -what?" Was he joking? She couldn't even imagine the Cullen she knew doing such a thing.

Their conversation drew Dorian's attention. "Oh, Ser Prim and Proper has a dark side? Tell me more?"

Max glanced over his shoulder at them. "I'm sure he had a good reason."

"Well," Hawke said, "the young man _did_ transform into an abomination a moment later. Shame, poor fellow. Someone had performed experiments on him. Implanted a demon."

"That's possible?" Bull sounded horrified, something Solana had never pictured hearing.

"Hey, look where we're standing right now," Hawke said. "I'm coming around to the belief that anything is possible."

"So, Cullen was right to suspect him then?" Solana asked.

"He told me he'd meant to scare a confession out of the boy. I think he managed to scare him a little more than he'd intended."

"Oh."

Hawke gave her a small smile. "He wasn't all that bad. He didn't make a habit of hurting mages. He mostly just glared at them broodingly. And he didn't think ordinary people could possibly be friends with mages. Imagine my surprise to find him in love with one." He snorted.

Solana didn't know what to say. She felt her cheeks colour.

The Iron Bull broke the awkward silence. "Everyone, if I get possessed, feint on my blind side, then go low. Cullen says I leave myself open."

No one spoke for a while after that.


	29. Hope and fear

_"It is the nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat from the terror. The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? Its work."_

Solana stared at the image of the Divine and tried to comprehend what she was saying.

 _You can't believe everything you hear in the Fade._ Hadn't that been her first lesson, the test she'd had to pass when she came of age? This thing looked like the Divine, but it could be anything. It could be simply telling her what she wanted desperately to hear.

"It's a trick?" she asked, despite herself. "It's not a real Calling? The demon is just mimicking it? Like a bad dream?"

Justinia, or whatever it was, nodded.

So, she wasn't dying. She wasn't blightsick. She still had those twenty years… provided she survived this. Anger surged, hot in her blood. She'd given up everything, thinking she had no future. But it had all been a lie.

"I'd like to have a few words with this Nightmare."

"You will have your chance, brave Warden," the Divine said. "This place of darkness is its lair."

* * *

Solana fingered the coin in her pocket.

Everyone was walking in silence again. Max had been sullen since the revelation that he wasn't a Herald. Hawke and Blackwall kept shooting glares at each other after a bitter argument about the Wardens they'd seen in the Inquisitor's memory. Bull was hunched over and scowling, jumping at everything that moved in the shadows. Dorian appeared to be examining his nails and Solana… Solana couldn't stop thinking of all the things she would have done differently if she'd only known she'd had time.

When she'd last spoken to Leliana, the spymaster had asked some probing questions about the situation with Cullen. When Solana'd tried to explain why he'd ended it, Leliana had tutted and rolled her eyes.

"You've warded your heart," the she had said. "You're afraid of being responsible for another. So, you'd rather turn to drink than to a man who clearly adores you."

Solana had argued with her and denied it, especially on the point of the alcohol. She hadn't needed drink at all since Cullen had given her her very own potions stash. But, of course, Leliana had been completely right. The Calling had driven Solana from Cullen's arms before he'd overdosed on lyrium, before he'd told her he couldn't be with her in case his addiction hurt her. She was the Hero of Ferelden, it would take more to hurt her than a hapless blow across the face. He'd needed her, but she'd been satisfied to keep her distance because she'd been afraid he'd become attached.

He'd asked her to live with him and in that moment all she had seen was how devastated he'd be when she died.

Would it have been different if she'd known she had twenty years and not merely a few months?

Hawke cleared his throat beside her. He laughed when he saw her jump. "Sorry."

"I should probably pay more attention to my surroundings, considering," she said.

"Well, I'm just an apostate not a demon. People do get us confused, but I promise not to attack you. You know, unless I'm manipulated by a … never mind. I wanted to ask you something."

She looked at him expectantly.

"Your full name, Solana Amell. Did I hear that right?"

"Yes, it's hardly a secret."

"So, your surname is Amell. A – M – E – L – L?"

"Yes…" she answered hesitantly.

"That's funny. It's my name too."

She stared at him. "I was under the impression your name was Hawke?"

"Oh, it is," he said quickly. "But my mother's name was Amell. They're quite a well-known family in Kirkwall. Well, they used to be. You know, back before I was born… is that where you're from?"

"No I…" That was a strange thought. She'd never considered that she might have been born outside of Ferelden. "Well I don't really know. I… I grew up in the Circle. But I can't imagine that they'd ship me all the way from Kirkwall?"

"No, probably not." He stuck his hands into his coat pockets. "It's interesting though. Because I remember my mother telling me about this cousin of hers whose first-born child was taken to the Circle by Templars. She never got over the loss. The way my mother told it, it was the beginning of the downfall of the family."

Solana stopped walking, earning a string of curses from Bull who'd almost walked into her and was not in the mood for surprises. She ignored him. "You're saying we might be cousins?"

Hawke shrugged. "It's possible."

"Well that's quite the bloodline," Dorian commented. "The Hero and The Champion, both from the same stock. Next thing we'll discover old Max is your nephew."

"I'm not anything," the Inquisitor said. "Let's get moving."

Dorian raised his eyebrows and Solana and Hawke exchanged a look.

"If it's any consolation, _we're_ related," Dorian called to him as they started splashing through the marshland again. "Oh, not first cousins or anything like that. Can you imagine? You're a Trevelyan, however, and somewhere in the dank nethers of my family tree, there was also a Trevelyan. Perhaps he was even the one who ventured to Ostwick to establish the branch? We are talking long ago, of course."

"How do you even know that?" Max muttered.

"Bloodlines are serious business in Tevinter. You're taught lessons and tested... by strict nannies. I heard your family mentioned, and I had to go through all the old mnemonics. But yes—there it is."

Solana was still struck by Hawke's revelation. "I've never had family before," she said, quietly, so that only he might hear.

Dorian was still talking about bloodlines, probably just speaking to fill the silence.

"I'm afraid there aren't many of us left." Hawke said. "I have an uncle. But… well, he's… oh and my brother, of course! He's a Warden, like you. But he, um, well he kinda hates me. Might not hate you, though?"

Hawke smiled at her and for the first time in what felt like a long while, she found herself smiling back.

"When we get out of here I'll do some digging. I'm sure I can find more information on your branch. My mother mentioned that cousin had other children, also mages."

"I might have brothers and sisters?"

"Well, if they didn't perish during the rebellion… sorry, inappropriate. Yes, there's a good chance you do."

She'd gone most of her life alone. The idea that somewhere there was a place for her, that she belonged somewhere, was more appealing than she'd ever imagined.

She was jolted from her thoughts as they strode into some kind of chamber. Like all parts of the Fade, it was open to the sky. In the centre of this one, there was a cracked mirror. Before it, charred corpses on their knees, as if they'd died in extraordinary pain.

"Well this isn't creepy at all," Hawke said. His knuckles where white on his staff.

The voice of the demon rang out. "Perhaps _I_ should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition." It chuckled malevolently. "Like Blackwall. Ah, there's nothing like a Grey Warden. And you are _nothing_ like a Grey Warden."

"I'll show you a Warden's strength, beast," he spat back, spinning around as if trying to find it.

Hawke was approaching the mirror, as if entranced. Solana grabbed his sleeve, worried that he was being controlled by a demon or some kind of foul magic.

"Sorry," he said. "It's just… isn't this an eluvian? A broken one, but that's an intriguing thing to find here, isn't it? "

She shrugged. "I'm not familiar with the term."

He looked around at the others but they stared at him blankly.

"I had a friend who had a broken one just like this. She tried to fix it, but it was corrupted – blighted. They're usually doors."

"Doors into the Fade?"

"That's what I'm wondering."

"I'm sure this is fascinating," Max said, "but let's talk about it when we're back home? Dead end. Come on."

He turned and lead them back the way they'd come. Solana jogged to catch up with him.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Of course not." He glanced at her, then sighed and looked at his feet. "I have an army in the physical world dying because they believe in me. But I'm a fraud."

"You're not a fraud."

"I've been calling myself the Herald of Andraste. All I am is the fool who was in the wrong place at the wrong time." He clenched his left fist, briefly snuffing out the light of the anchor. "Everything I am, everything I've become, is a lie."

"That's not true."

He spun on her. "You were there! You saw my memory! I only lived because the Divine saved me. She gave her life for me. I'm still the brat of Trevelyan."

"Stop this!" He jerked at the metal in her voice. "You have people out there relying on you. Do you think I had the magical blessing of Andraste when I was given the task of stopping the Blight? I had frikken Morrigan, the bad tempered bitch of the wilds." And Alistair, who hadn't known his left hand from his right. "I was a Circle mage. I knew nothing of the world. The first time I'd even seen anything outside of that tower was the day I was recruited. If I can save the world, you sure as the Void can."

Bull started laughing, obviously amused by her disastrous attempts to comfort the Inquisitor.

The demon's voice brought an abrupt stop to that. "The Qunari will make a lovely host for one of my minions," it said. "Or perhaps, I'll inhabit his body myself."

"I'd like to see you try," Bull rumbled, doing a good job of hiding whatever fear he may have been feeling.

Solana turned back to Max, who was glowering at his feet. As if sensing her attention, he said, "You know, they wanted you to lead? You were the first choice." He indicated Hawke with a tilt of his head. "He was the second. I was the accident, the prisoner they recruited because of this." He unfolded his hand, showing her the anchor.

She took a deep breath. "Max, you've done what you've done. Doesn't it make it all the more impressive if you've done it on your own? You survived Haven, you saved the empress, and we're all here right now because of you."

"I'm uncertain that's a good thing."

Hawke raised his hand. "I, for one, am glad not to be splattered at the base of the abyss."

Not sure what more to do, Solana reached out and patted Max's shoulder.

Dorian's yelp jerked her attention from the Inquisitor. He was standing just behind her, staring wide-eyed.

Blackwall withdrew his weapon. "What in the Maker's name - ?"

She followed their line of sight. There, in the shadows, creeping slowly towards them, were a handful of darkspawn.

"Get behind me!" she barked at the others. Her Warden blood had to be good for something.

"No," Max withdrew his sword. "I can handle this."

"Now isn't the time for pride."

A shriek ran towards them, its armour clanking, its poisoned claws already slashing. If one of those cut Max, he'd be infected with the Taint. It opened its always-smiling mouth to deliver its ear-splitting call. She dived in front of the Inquisitor, using her staff to block the razor-claws. Max grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her aside. With a roar, he plunged his sword into the creature's skull.

She stumbled, dazed. The rest of her party had already engaged the others.

Blackwall was fighting a Hurlock, but the grinning darkspawn was bigger and stronger than him, even in his armour. Dorian was surrounded by Genlocks, firing arrows at him from close quarters. Bull was dodging the razor-jaw of an emissary. Hawke had been backed into a corner by another shriek and a series of barriers was all that was keeping it at bay. She didn't know who to help. Her friends were overwhelmed by darkspawn and she couldn't think.

Max rushed to assist Hawke, jolting her out of her paralysis. She raised her staff and shot a blast of ice towards Bull. The emissary froze solid, allowing bull to slam down on it with his axe, shattering it. He gave her a brief salute before charging to help Dorian. Solana summoned flame in her palms and threw it at Blackwall's Hurlock, scorching the creature's back. As it lifted its head to howl in pain, Blackwall slashed its throat. A final blast of magic lit the area, one of Dorian's fire glyphs igniting, incinerating the last of the darkspawn.

The Inquisitor turned on her. "What in the Void was that, Solana?"

She'd never seen him angry before. The puppy had teeth. He advanced on her. His dark eyebrows were pulled together. His brown eyes were smouldering. She backed away a step.

"Now just hold on," Blackwall stepped forward, ready to defend her.

"I'm a Warden," she said, finding her courage. "You are not."

"And you think that makes you better than me? After all we've seen tonight?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Hey," Hawke stepped between them.

She spoke past him. "Just because you're Inquisitor, it doesn't mean you're immortal."

"Just because I'm not the Herald, doesn't mean I'm some, some, weakling in need of defending!" His sword was still in his hand and he was waving it, but in a way that seemed exasperated more than threatening.

"So you need to prove yourself by, what, getting the Blight?" she shot back at him.

He paused, with his weapon raised. "The what?"

Of course, the precious noble had probably never even seen a darkspawn before. "It's in their blood, the Taint."

Max looked form Solana to the carcass of the shriek and back to her again.

"How do you not know this?" she asked him seriously.

"Solana," Hawke said gently. "What are you talking about?"

She looked around at the others. They were all staring at her as if she was mad. "Darkspawn carry the Taint," she said uncertainly. It was impossible that they didn't know that. Hawke had told her of his escape from Lothering. But she didn't know what else to say. "If you exchange blood, or ingest their fluids, you either die or become a – "

"Ghoul, yes," Hawke said. He was frowning at her. "But that," he pointed at the body of the shriek, "is not a darkspawn."

"I think I know what darkspawn look like."

Max had sheathed his sword. "That's a spider."

"What?"

Hawke nodded. "Yes, I see a spider."

Bull laughed. "A spider?"

She spun to him. "You see darkspawn too?"

"No! It's a fuckin demon."

She turned to the other Grey Warden, who was staring at the body of the emissary, wiping his hands on his tunic. "Blackwall, what do you see?"

"Me?" He tore his eyes from the corpse to meet hers. "Oh, I um. They're spirits. Ghosts. I don't know who these people are, of course. Just people. Soldiers, I suspect. I don't know the woman. Never met her." He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet.

"I have a theory," Dorian said, kicking one of the Gemlock bodies aside. "Are you afraid of spiders, Inquisitor?"

Max shifted where he stood. "You think we're seeing what we fear most?" He neatly avoided answering Dorian's question.

Dorian smiled. "If you have another theory, I'm happy to hear it?"

The Inquisitor's eyes moved to settle on Solana again. "It would seem I owe you an apology."

"I'll settle for you not stabbing me."

"I had no intention of stabbing you."

"Good to know."

They started moving forward again, Solana falling into step beside Max.

"So, spiders?" she queried softly, trying to break the tension that had formed between them.

He glanced at her and a smile flickered across his lips. "What I'm interested to know is how the Hero of Ferelden could possibly still be afraid of darkspawn. You must have killed hundreds?"

She shivered. "It's not the individuals I fear. It's what they represent."

"The Blight?"

"Yes."

"Don't worry, we'll stop Corypheus."

The disembodied voice of the Nightmare Demon laughed. "Oh, she's not worried about Corypheus. Her worries are a little… closer to home." She steeled herself. She knew it would get around to her eventually. Would it use her feelings for Cullen against her?

"I wonder," it said, "What will you do, Hero of Ferelden, if that child you carry has been infected with your Taint?"


	30. Valiant hearts

They were all staring at her and she couldn't breathe. The Nightmare's laughter echoed around them. The others had been quicker to brush off its taunts, but Solana's whole body felt like ice.

 _They were all staring at her_ , as if she'd known. As if she'd hidden it from them.

"I can't," she stammered. "It's not possible. Wardens. The Joining."

But she clutched her stomach automatically and she knew, even as she said the words, that they weren't true. Duncan had listed reduced fertility as one of the many side-effects of the Joining. After the fact, of course. It hadn't particularly troubled her. The Circles didn't like mages breeding. Somehow, in her mind, that had come to be _in_ fertility. She didn't know of any other Wardens who had had children.

The demon could be lying…

But this would explain so much. Her nausea, her weakness. A range of things that she'd put down to the effects of The Calling or blight sickness suddenly had another explanation.

Her mind was like a caged cat, darting from panicked thought to panicked thought.

When had she last had alcohol?

What would all the lyrium she'd taken this night do?

And the fighting. Oh Maker, the fighting.

Her knees felt weak.

"Solana." Max's voice was soft. "We need to move forward. It… your fear makes it stronger. We need to…"

She nodded. The Fade didn't have answers. It never had answers.

* * *

"So, are we to assume that's a little miniature Commander you've got there?" Dorian queried after the awkward silence had become unbearable.

"Dorian." Max cautioned.

"I don't know," Solana said.

Dorian whistled.

She closed her eyes and rephrased. "If I am… then yes. But it's trying to scare me, isn't it? I might not be."

"You mean you don't know?" Dorian asked.

"That is what I just said."

"I thought women always knew."

"Yes, well, it's easier to tell when you don't think you're dying."

Dying… she cursed herself for playing into the demon's hands, but her mind kept returning to that. What effect would her Taint have on her child?

Her hand strayed to her stomach again. _Child_. Cullen's child. An hour ago, she hadn't considered the possibility it might exist. And now she wanted it to more than anything. She wanted to carry it and protect it and raise it. She wanted a future, a life, all of the things The Calling and her duty and her grief had denied her.

Blackwall had been walking silently beside her. He caught her eye. "You alright?"

She offered him a shaky smile. "I don't know. I… have Wardens had children, in the past?"

She couldn't be certain of his expression behind the beard, but she thought he might be frowning. "I imagine so."

"You're not sure?"

"It must happen. You have men and women living together, it's bound to, isn't it?"

What was unsaid was that it was rare enough that he didn't personally know any. Perhaps it was simply uncommon because of the kind of lives that Wardens lived? Perhaps it went against their vows? Their lives were supposed to be lived in servitude, the great protectors. There wasn't place in a barracks for children.

Perhaps Warden children, when they did occur, were sent to the Chantry like the forbidden offspring of Circle mages? Perhaps they went on to live perfectly normal lives, without ever knowing what their parents were?

* * *

Max stopped at the entrance to a narrow passage. He glanced back at the rest of them and Solana thought he might have been asking for reassurance

To say it was ominous would be a mighty understatement. Two grotesque statues guarded it, with sconces where their noses should have been. Overhead, jagged red lyrium protruded at odd angles.

The spirit, or the Divine, or whatever it was, waited for them expectantly. She – it – made the stones around it glitter almost invitingly.

Solana gripped her staff tightly. This looked like a trap and she knew the others were thinking the same. But what choice did they have but to move forward?

They entered the dank corridor. The spirit drifted ahead of them, lighting the way like a lantern. Water dripped from overhead, alarming Solana when it happened to splash down the back of her neck. As they plunged knee-deep into an emerald pool, she was reminded of the Chant of Light.

 _From these emerald waters doth life begin anew…_

When the Circle Chantry had spoken of emerald waters, Solana had always imagined something prettier.

On the other side of the passage, they found a wide cavern with a low roof. It was intensely claustrophobic, despite its size, and lit by an odd red light that cast bloody reflections in the water.

They pressed forward, no one daring to speak.

And then another light danced in the water, not red but green.

"The rift!" Hawke exclaimed. Solana looked up and she could see it too, sparkling through fissures in the cavern wall. "We're almost there!"

"Don't say it like that," Bull grumbled. "That _guarantees_ another demon is gonna show up".

"You must get through the rift, Inquisitor." The spirit's voice echoed in the chamber. "Get through and then slam it closed with all your strength. That will banish the army of demons and exile this creature to the furthest reaches of the Fade."

Hawke started splashing towards the green glow that indicated the cave's exit, then suddenly he stopped. Solana caught up with him and then she wished she hadn't. Through the cave exit, she could see the massive form of a darkspawn broodmother, sitting between them and the rift.

"Sweet Andraste," she breathed.

Another demon hovered before the broodmother. It was roughly the shape of a man, but whatever eyes it may have had were hidden beneath a spiny carapace. Six spider legs protruded from its back and stretch up over its shoulders.

Solana had heard of this before, demons so mighty that they could split themselves into multiple, independent forms. The man-shaped aspect hung in the air, as if waiting for them. As soon as it saw them, it leered at Max. The broodmother gave a thunderous growl. Its thick tentacles undulated as it leaned towards them.

The Inquisitor squared his shoulders and tightened his grip on his sword. But the spirit gently pushed him aside and floated out before them. "If you would, please tell Leliana, I am sorry I failed you too."

It glowed brighter, so bright that Solana was forced to shut her eyes. She squinted at it, watching it through her eyelashes. Wild energy sparked from its body, hitting the Aspect and sending it reeling. The spirit drifted right up to the broodmother's face, growing increasingly brighter. And then it exploded.

Everything went white and Solana was knocked backwards by the force of the blast. She was temporarily blinded, blinking furiously, struggling to see what had happened. When her vision returned, it was in monochrome at first. She saw Max stumbling towards the Aspect, which was still recovering from whatever the spirit had done to it. The broodmother was gone.

Dorian cast a barrier and Bull charged forward. He was raising his axe to strike at the demon, when the demon blinked out of existence.

It appeared beside Solana, laughing. It pointed at her stomach. She dived aside as electricity sparked from its bony finger, hitting the spot where she would have been standing.

Max took a swing at it, but it blinked away again.

"You can't defeat me!" It declared, appearing again in front of the rift. With a wave of its skeletal hand, three genlocks appeared beside it. Green barriers of no element known to Solana instantly blocked every exit. "I grow fat on your fear!"

Without warning, it pointed at Solana again. She didn't know which way to jump and the moment's hesitation cost her. An invisible force hit her shoulder and every one of her muscles seized up. She couldn't move.

An intricate spiderweb of green light appeared above the Aspect's head, circular like a glyph. She wanted to scream to the others to watch out, they were dealing with the genlocks, but even her mouth was stuck.

Two terrors burst into being where the Aspect had been. One immediately lept on Max, throwing him to the ground. The other came for her, but Blackwall stepped in front of her, slicing the thing's chest as a spell from Dorian set it ablaze.

Bull pulled the other off Max and punched it in the face. It screeched, jabbing at him with its long fingers.

"Little help here?" he called to Hawke, who was standing nearby. But Hawke had been frozen the same as her. His eyes were wide with fear.

"Oh, shit." Bull said, punching the terror again.

Dorian obliged in Hawke's place, sending a bolt of lightning at the terror. Bull dropped it, pulled out his axe and cleaved its upper body, still convulsing, in two.

Max came to his feet, clutching his head. He was clearly still dazed.

The aspect flew at him out of nowhere, bowling him over again. He skid along the ground and was still.

"You are nothing!" the demon declared.

Another wave of darkspawn burst from the shadows. Genlocks, hurlocks, emissaries. Solana saw Max grit his teeth. He pushed down on the ground, rising an inch with what appeared to be tremendous difficulty.

A hurlock ran at Solana and she couldn't even scream. But Blackwall was still there. He blocked it with his sword.

Max raised his left hand and a green streak of power shot from it.

As with the Pride Demon, emerald light blossomed over the Aspect's head and it was trapped by it, stunned. The hurlock fighting Blackwall exploded into nothing and Solana came free from her paralysis, gasping.

Max had collapsed again. The others were fighting off the remaining darkspawn. The spell wouldn't hold the Aspect for long.

"I'm sorry," she said to her stomach. She reached into her robes and pulled out the lyrium potion she'd stashed away.

One swig made the colours burn brighter. Lyrium connected mages to the Fade. Taking it when already in the fade… it was like the green mist swirling around her legs, the barriers the demon had thrown up, the bone sculptures surrounding them and even the rift itself was a part of her.

She drew energy inwards from the Fade around her for three long breathes. Then closed her eyes and pushed forward with her mind, with her hands, with her staff.

The magic lanced towards the Aspect, twisting and twirling and sparking like a storm. It hit it, covered it in a jet black cloud and then exploded outwards.

It left nothing in its wake. The demon was gone.

She fell to her knees. Hawke rushed to her side. She felt his healing magic brushing against her skin. "I'm fine."

"Guys…" Bull was looking back towards the cavern they'd come through, still clutching his axe in both hands. Darkspawn. More darkspawn were shambling towards them.

Hawke hauled Solana to her feet and pulled her towards the rift.

She wasn't sure where the others were. She was vaguely aware of Bull slinging Max's arm around his broad shoulders and half-walking, half-carrying the Inquisitor after them. Then her vision narrowed down to the rift, to freedom.

A tentacle burst through the ground in front of her.

It lashed out, hitting Hawke in the stomach and bowling her over. She looked up. And up. The broodmother. The demon had re-formed. Hawke was lying not far from her, curled in on himself.

She reached for her staff, meeting the foul creature's eyes.

She heard the sounds of fighting behind her. The darkspawn had caught up with them. She didn't dare look.

"Go." Hawke choked. He was pulling himself up using his own staff. His one hand was still clutching his side. "I'll cover you."

"No."

She could see his staff digging into the ground with all of the weight he was resting on it. He was injured. He wouldn't last a minute.

"No, It's my duty. I'm the Grey Warden."

She got to her feet and ducked as another tentacle swiped at her head.

 _Don't think, just do._ Just like old times, when her duty had asked the unthinkable from her. She didn't want to die, especially not now. But as Leliana always said, one life (two?) in exchange for Thedas? It wasn't a bad deal.

She swallowed, braced herself and charged.

Something bowled into her. It was hard and metal and smelled like sweat, and she didn't have a chance to take in what it was before it was pushing her back, back towards the rift, away from the broodmother.

"Go!"

Blackwall held his sword before him, before _them_. "Did you hear me?"

"Blackwall…"

"I said go!" he glanced at her, the green light of the rift playing across his face and his armour. "If you won't save yourself, save your baby."

"We don't even know if it's real."

"It doesn't matter. You're a better person than me –"

"That's not –"

"There's no time. Ask your spymaster. She'll tell you everything you need to know."

He charged forward, leaping over and around flailing tentacles.

The last image Solana saw before Hawke pulled her bodily through the rift was Blackwall jamming his sword hilt-deep into the broodmother's stomach.

* * *

Passing through the rift was like being hit by a small jolt of electricity.

One moment Solana was in the Fade, watching Blackwall's heroic efforts. Next thing, she was standing in the courtyard, surrounded by Inquisition soldiers fighting demons.

Max reached up with his hand and fisted it. The rift closed and every single demon instantly disappeared.

There was a stunned pause, a ringing silence, the likes of which she could never remember hearing, and then she realised why. The Calling had stopped. Her mind was quiet.

Then the Inquisition soldiers were cheering and jumping and singing the praises of their Inquisitor, their hero.

Everything seemed a blur. It _was_ a blur. Her eyes were brimming. She couldn't recall the last time she'd cried, but relief was tangling with grief into a mixture of painful emotions she couldn't quite contain. Hawke wrapped an arm around her waist and she thought he might have been leaning on her as much as she was leaning on him.

"Inquisitor," one of the soldiers stepped forward. "The archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared. As for the Wardens, those who weren't corrupted helped us fight the demons."

The gathered crowd parted slightly to allow one of the Wardens through. Cassey. Her black hair was matted, her cheek was grazed. There was soot across her forehead and collar and she was limping. She looked straight up at Solana."It would seem you are the senior surviving Grey Warden. Will you be leading us?"

The courtyard waited in silence. Solana didn't know what to say. She looked to Max. Surely it should be his decision? But he nodded to her.

She took a moment, gathering her words. When she spoke, she projected her voice out to the entire courtyard. "Blackwall gave his life to save us and strike a decisive blow against Corypheus. We need more men and women like him in the fight to come. Wardens willing to live and die by our vows. We might still be vulnerable to Corypheus, but we have a chance to still do some good at the Inquisition's side."

A few of the faces gathered before her seemed less than enthused by the idea of working side-by-side with people who they'd been trying to kill minutes before. Had she made the right choice?

A movement at the back of the courtyard caught her attention. Cullen had climbed up onto a scaffold and his soldiers were turning to him for orders. But it was clear from his face that he hadn't come up there to issue instructions. He'd come to see if it was true, if they were really back. If she was safe.

Their eyes locked for a moment before his attention was pulled away by his men.

"I should go speak to him," Max said, having also noticed the commander's entrance. He started past Solana, but she put a hand on his arm to halt him.

"You won't say anything about…"

He blinked at her, then seemed to realise what she meant. "No, of course not. That's between you two."

"I just want to be sure first."

He nodded. "Get some rest, Solana. We'll take care of things here."

Hawke pulled away from her. "I'd better go with him. Are you going to be okay?"

 _No._ "Yes, fine."

As Hawke followed Max, she noted that he'd healed himself. His robes were still stained, but he was moving with ease.

Bull and Dorian disappeared into the crowd, and she was left with Cassey. The woman glared at her with big grey eyes.

"I…" Solana started. "I have so much to apologise for. I don't even know where to start."

"How much did you know before you lead us to her?" She asked, voice flat.

Solana's heart jolted. "Nothing. Almost nothing. I was hearing the Calling, but I didn't know the others were and… when she told me she wanted to summon the demon army I didn't know it had anything to do with Corypheus. Please believe me, I wouldn't have left you there if I'd known you might have been… I thought I'd be back with help within the week."

"Why did you hide who you were?"

"I didn't know how you'd react."

"Well, Derrik would have been star struck."

Despite her light comment, her voice was still strained. She was a shadow of the woman who'd rescued Solana in that forest all those months ago. There was something steely about her now, the kind of steel that was born of heartbreak.

Solana reached into a pocket. "Here I…" she pulled out Falin's ring and handed it to Cassey. "I kept this for you."

Cassey's eyes widened as she stared at the small silver ring in the centre of her palm. "Where did you get this?"

She looked up, gaze meeting Solana's. Solana didn't have to speak.

"I see."

"He was beyond helping," she said. "His mind had been taken. If I'd thought there was a chance…"

"He wouldn't have wanted that. He treasured his mind more than anything." Cassey gazed down at the ring. "That's how we met, you know? I don't think I ever told you about our lives before. He was in the library. Always studying. Writing essays on forms of magic, on corruption. Essays that would never be published, he was an elf and a mage. He didn't care. The knowledge was its own gift, he'd say. He'd have me look through hundreds of books for one tiny relevant sentence. I hated it, but I stayed for his company. It was the only way I could get close to him. I think I was more of a burden than anything. The tranquil were so much better at research than I was. Neither of us would have chosen to leave the Circle, if we'd been given the choice. Although if we hadn't left, I don't know that he ever would have told me how he felt." She swallowed, eyes still locked on the ring.

"I'm so sorry," Solana said. What more could she say?

"Do you think…" Cassey swallowed again. "Do you think it would be okay if I go travel for a bit?"

"Of course," Solana said. Her insides were twisting at the familiarity of the words. "Take as long as you need."


	31. Forged anew

A/N Second last chapter! If anything is broken, it's because my downstairs neighbours are celebrating St Paddy's Day, much to the chagrin of their very loud and very upset toddler... so editing has been a challenge. Sorry in advance.

* * *

The journey back to Skyhold passed in a blur.

Solana kept to herself. She grieved for Blackwall and she worried about everything the demon had said.

No one bothered her. Physically going into the Fade wasn't something one just shook off. Their entire party was subdued, and the Inquisition left them well alone to process what they'd been through.

By the time they got back to the mountain fortress, Solana at least had a plan.

She doubted herself, even as she ascended the wooden staircase, the sound of the bard strumming filtering up from below.

"Cole?" The boy peered at her from his usual corner. "Cole, I need to ask you a favour."

"I like to help," he said.

How to even phrase this? "You… you can sense people, can't you?"

He stared at her. She could just make out his big blue orb-eyes beneath the brim of his hat.

Her heart was drumming and her throat constricted. "I need your help… I was told, in the Fade that I… well…" she swallowed. Why was it so difficult to say? She was balancing on a knife edge between joy and disappointment and even now she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted the answer to be.

What if the demon had been right? What if the child was tainted? What if she'd somehow damaged it with her potions and magic? Should she be hoping for it to be real knowing those things were possible?

"Two," Cole said.

She blinked at him.

"You were going to ask me how many people I sensed standing there." He pointed at her. "Two."

She looked behind her to double check. "Two. Me and…"

"You and the little seed." His eyes narrowed. He looked at her stomach with such intensity that she could truly believe he was looking right into her womb. She stood frozen, frightened of what that look meant, what he might say next.

"Although, it is more of a lime size now," he said. "It was more like a seed the last time I saw you."

The last time… "How long have you known?"

"Since the start. I told him to be strong but he mistook my meaning. Will you tell him now?"

She nodded. "I want to."

The idea terrified her. But he needed to know soon. He needed to know from her before the Skyhold grapevine got hold of the news.

"He's in his office," Cole said, with a far-off look in his eyes. "You should go before he decides to do more drills. He likes doing drills when he's bored but the men don't want that yet. They want to be home."

* * *

Solana vacillated between excitement and nausea the whole way up to Cullen's office. Cullen liked things to be orderly, under his control.

She paused on the stairs and closed her eyes. Skyhold was full of people who could help her, she'd say. He needn't worry about it. She was informing him out of duty.

No, no that was too cold.

She moved forward again, running through a dozen other ways to break the news. Finally, she was at the door to his office. A recruit passed her on the way out and gave her a nod in greeting.

Cullen was sitting at his desk, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. His brow was knitted. The light streamed in from that hole in the roof that he still hadn't had repaired. It caught his hair and his surcoat and fell in a golden pool over his inkwell and part of his parchment. He frowned, crossed something out.

She cleared her throat.

He looked up, startled.

"Do you have time to talk?" she asked.

He pushed his chair back and stood. "For you? Always."

She moved into the room, being sure to close the door. He stayed behind his desk, watching her curiously.

"I have something to tell you," she started. She didn't know where to look, how to begin. Couldn't he just guess as Cole had? But he remained silent, waiting for her. "I discovered something in the Fade."

The air around her seemed to grow hot and thin. She managed a glance at him. He was frowning, his brown eyes narrowed in concern. Something in her look – perhaps how quick it was, how she struggled to hold his gaze, must have given a clue to her revelation because he asked softly, "Something to do with us?"

Her heart slammed in her chest. "I'd say so, yes."

"You know you can't trust what you see in the F – "

"I'm pregnant."

A beat passed. There was nothing. No expression, no movement. It was as if Cullen was trapped in the Nightmare's paralysis spell. Then he came slowly around his desk. "Is it my – "

"Yes, of course it's yours."

He was standing within arm's reach now. "You're certain?" He blinked. "Not about the – I mean the Fade is not exactly a place of certainty."

"I just spoke to Cole." She looked down at her stomach. "He said it's a little seed."

When she looked up again it was to find Cullen staring at her middle. From the look on his face, she may well have transformed into Andraste herself.

"I don't know what this means," she said. "I don't know any other Wardens who've had families. I didn't even know that I could."

"Is it in danger? Your blood… blight sickness."

"I don't know."

He turned from her and paced away, running a hand through his hair.

She wrapped her arms around herself. "I understand this is a shock. You need some time to –"

"Marry me."

Her insides jolted. "What?"

He turned back to her. "Marry me. Right now. In the Chantry downstairs. We can ask Mother Giselle - "

"Cullen, I'm not going to marry you just so your child isn't a bastard, I understand this is -"

"No," he shook his head. "That's not what I –" he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "That's not why." When he opened them again, the intensity in his gaze stopped her breath. "You _know_ that's not why," he said, voice low and gravelly.

"What else has change?"

"Everything." He closed the space between them in two steps, reaching to cup her face in a calloused hand. "Everything has changed, Solana. I've changed. I was a coward. I thought I was being strong by pushing you away, I thought I was protecting you. I thought…" something seemed to stick in his throat. "I thought that I was protecting myself from the pain of losing you to the Calling. But when I saw… when I saw that dragon and…" his voice caught again. His eyes were exploring her face as if trying to memorize every detail and she was surprised to see them shining with emotion. "I know we might have limited time, but it made me realise… I don't want to be without you for one moment longer than I have to."

She was struck speechless, gazing up into his face. He smelled of leather and mint and salvation. Her heart felt like that spirit, glowing brighter and brighter, ready to explode.

He shut his eyes again. "I apologise. I sound like a fool."

"No," she said quickly, reaching up to caress his cheek. He leaned in to her touch.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I've been trying to find the courage to say that to you since you stepped out of that rift."

His cheek was rough with stubble and his skin was warm. She traced his cheekbones, the scar over his mouth. He breathed deeply, shoulders rising and falling, the fur edging of his surcoat caught the gold of the morning sun.

"I want to be there for you, Solana," he said softly. "For both of you."

His hand covered hers. His eyes opened and in them she could see that same golden light, but shining outward. A look reserved just for her. He leaned in to her, maddeningly slowly.

He paused with his lips inches from hers. "Tell me you want that too?"

"I do."

And he kissed her.

Heat rushed from the point of contact over her entire body, prickling her skin, weakening her limbs. Everything else in her life, in that room, time itself, stood still. There was only him and the taste of his lips and his hand at the back of her neck. She was at once aware of just how long she'd wanted this, how long she'd been craving it.

He pulled her into his arms, deepening the kiss. Desire coiled hot in her belly and she wanted more, she wanted everything. Her fingers found his belt buckle.

He pulled away, breaking the kiss. He was panting, staring down at her.

Was she going too far?

As if in answer, he reached around to unhook the clasp at the back of her neck. He kissed her forehead, and her cheek and her jaw as he slowly worried loose the buttons that marched down the back of her robes. His warm fingers caressed the revealed skin, moving in small circles down the length of her spine, while his lips explored the tender flesh of her throat. She moaned his name and heard him draw a sharp breath in response.

He drew her into his arms again, mouth finally moving back to her lips. He walked her backwards while they kissed and lifted her onto his desk. She heard the inkwell tip, roll, clatter to the ground. He didn't even break away to look at the damage and she didn't care. All that mattered was him. She found the buckle again.

He peeled her robes from her shoulders, marking her skin with burning kisses as she unlaced his breeches.

Suddenly, he stopped.

He pulled away to look at her face, his brow creased. "Is this okay? I mean it's not going to hurt the…"

She resisted the urge to laugh when she realised what he meant. His concern filled her with warmth. "No, this is okay."

"Good."

He parted her knees and pressed close. He didn't pull away again for a long while.

* * *

They lay on the carpet, wrapped in each other and basking in the pool of sunlight.

They'd been touching and kissing and lightly teasing, coming down from the high of their earlier activities. Thankfully Cullen's men knew better than to enter his office when the door was closed, otherwise they might have been in for quite the eyeful. Solana giggled at the thought and Cullen looked at her, "What?"

She ran a finger along his lower lip. It was pink from her kisses, but there was also a smudge of ink just left of centre. "Nothing."

He seemed sceptical. He tucked her hair behind her ear. "Now, that's not fair."

There was ink on his hand too. His elbow was one big black patch. She didn't want to know what her back looked like.

She rolled onto it, staring up at the sky above his loft. She could see hints of blue, it was a beautiful day outside, unusually temperate. "You realise, my room is just across the way."

"So?"

"So, it's a little more private than your office." She examined her left hand, also covered in dark ink. "Less messy too."

He chuckled. "But that would have involved making it all the way across the ramparts without tearing your clothes off. I doubt I could have managed."

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. She closed her eyes, enjoying the heat he gave off, the feeling of his firm body against hers. She nuzzled his neck. This was… this was happiness. She felt safe and warm and protected. Cocooned in his arms, she felt like nothing could hurt her. No Calling, no taint, no Corypheus. Every worry she'd ever had, all of her grief, it was far away. It belonged to another world, a world outside of their little beam of light.

"Let's do it," she said.

"I was under the impression we just had," he said with a smile that showed his dimples.

She propped herself up on an elbow. His eyes were closed, but when she didn't speak, he looked at her through narrow slits. "We'd have to put our clothes on again to get to your room. Might I suggest we go upstairs instead?"

"Tempting." She traced a finger down the scar on his chest. "But that's not what I meant."

His brow puckered in puzzlement, then his eyes snapped open. He shifted so he was looking at her with his full attention.

"Let's do it," she repeated. "Now, in the Chantry."

"You're serious?"

She nodded. He was searching her face. She wondered what he expected to find there. Doubt, perhaps. But there was no doubt, just giddy excitement.

He sat up, eyes still locked on her.

"Do you still want – "

"Yes," he said, without hesitation. "Yes, absolutely, yes." His eyes still hadn't left her. "You're certain? Now. In the Chantry?"

She bit her lip and nodded, then looked at her hand again. "Well, maybe in a few minutes. I should probably wash, find a clean robe."

He grinned and it was all she could do not to laugh at that expression lighting her commander's face. A proper, full smile, eyes creasing at the corners, teeth flashing. It was the kind of expression that would have been more at home on the Inquisitor's face and it made him look heart-achingly beautiful.

"Alright," he said. "Half an hour, shall we say? Should we meet there?"

She nodded, heart soaring.


	32. In my arms lies eternity

A/N This is the last chapter for a while! Thanks so much for all of the support. I'm really glad that I've managed to keep up the pace of posting every day. There is more to the story, but I need to still work out details and I don't want to start posting until I've got it all worked out. I'm not sure how long the break will be, but if you want to nag me (or just chat about Dragon Age) you can find me on Twitter Tallulahlucy.

Thanks in particular to Judy, Knifeinthedarkness and Ioialoha for all of your encouraging comments! You guys are the best :)

* * *

Cullen wasn't there.

Solana paced the small room again. Dust was dancing in the sun beams flooding through the tall window behind the statue of Andraste.

She was trying not to worry. Perhaps she'd taken too long getting ready? It had taken her an age to scrub the ink from her hands and back, and she'd been unable to get it out of her hair. In the end, she'd dried her hair as best she could and tied it into one of the complicated knots Leliana had shown her years before. She was wearing a set of clean robes. They were light blue, the closest she could find to white.

She shouldn't have stopped to pick the flowers. But when she'd seen their bright petals she'd been unable to resist. Now she fidgeted with them. She'd taken too long. He'd come here, found her absent, and thought she had changed her mind.

Or else, he had changed his mind.

She'd been waiting for ten minutes, pacing back and forth beneath Andraste's marble arms. He had proposed in the passion of a moment, in panic at her condition. Maybe now he'd had time to think better of it?

Or perhaps something else had waylaid him? Perhaps urgent work had come up that he couldn't ignore? Perhaps someone had attacked and she didn't even know. Perhaps someone had attacked _him._

Clattering footsteps snapped her attention to the door. Her heart was pounding.

Cullen burst in, flushed and panting. He stilled when he saw her, mouth dropping slightly open.

"Sorry… I…" He took a deep breath. "I couldn't find…" he cleared his throat.

Solana heard an irritated voice outside. Cullen turned as the originator came in. Mother Giselle was tutting and shaking her head. "I do not see how my presence would be so urgent. I am, after all, a simple servant of –"

She stopped, taking in Solana. Her eyes moved between the two.

"Commander?"

"You didn't tell her?" Solana asked, caught between amusement and mortification.

"I um…" he scratched the back of his neck. His expression looked pained. "I didn't want the rest of the hall to hear."

"He informed me he required a guided prayer," the Revered Mother said. "Am I to assume this is not the case?"

"I apologise for the misdirection," he said, earnestly. "It is not far from the truth."

"We want to get married," Solana provided. "We'd like you to marry us."

Mother Giselle moved further into the room. She seemed to drift more than walk. "I would have thought that the Hero of Ferelden and the Commander of the Inquisition forces would have something grand? It does seem a missed opportunity. In times like these, happy occasions are few."

She made a good point. Josephine would probably kill them.

"We don't like fuss," Cullen provided. "If word got out of our… engagement. Well, I doubt we'd be permitted to do this quietly."

That was also true. They'd be mobbed. The ceremony would become an event. She'd probably have to wear one of those Orlesian contraptions. She could imagine nothing worse than being the centre of that kind of attention. They'd probably even have to have dance lessons. And dance. In front of an entire hall of people.

She nodded. "We want it like this. Just us."

The revered mother smiled benignly. "I'm afraid that is not possible."

 _What?_

Cullen's eyebrows drew together. "How come?"

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Well," Giselle said. "You need a witness."

"Maker's breath," Cullen cursed.

Mother Giselle's eyebrows shot up at the unexpected blasphemy, especially considering where they were standing. And the fact that it was Cullen. He was possibly her most devout follower.

"Hold on." He marched to the door and slammed it open, sticking his head out into the garden. "Scout Jim! Come here a minute?"

He stood aside as the bashful young scout entered. He was clutching a clipboard. "Sir?"

"This will only take a minute." Cullen strode to Solana's side, taking her hands in his.

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't…"

"Take a seat," he instructed.

Solana watched the boy slide meekly into one of the pews. Then her full attention was on the man in front of her. He still had a smudge of ink below his ear. His eyes were shining and he smiled softly.

"You look lovely, by the way. I should have said before, sorry."

She felt colour rising to her cheeks. "Are the flowers too much?"

She'd stuck them into her hair, in a festive wreath. She had no idea how it looked and she was at once self-conscious. It wasn't exactly traditional. He shook his head. "No. You… you're perfect."

Mother Giselle moved to stand before them, at Andraste's feet. "Do you have rings to exchange?"

 _Rings._ She hadn't even thought of rings. "No –"

"Yes." Cullen reached into a pocket and withdrew a small, wooden box. "The other reason I was delayed," he said to her with a lop-sided smile. "I'm afraid they're not much." He fumbled with the box. "I will get a proper ring for you. I just asked Seggrit for whatever he had available. The basta– the _scoundrel_ charged me twenty pieces for these. I think he smelled my desperation."

Cullen presented her with a plain silver ring, that she was to give to him.

He cleared his throat. "If you… if you'd like me to give you that ring, I could? I mean you're used to wearing it. I wouldn't be offended or…"

It took her a moment to realise he was talking about her Warden ring. "No." she said, possibly too sharply. She'd completely forgotten about it. She slipped it from her finger and into her pocket.

He released a breath and glanced at Mother Giselle.

She nodded. "Very well." She rolled her shoulders back and Cullen took Solana's hands in his again.

"The Maker said," Mother Giselle intoned. "To you, my second-born, I grant this gift: In your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame, all-consuming, and never satisfied. From the Fade I crafted you, and to the Fade you shall return each night in dreams that you may always remember Me. And then the Maker sealed the gates of the Golden City and there, he dwelled, waiting to see the wonders his children would create. Threnodies five."

Cullens grip tightened on Solana's hands and he smiled that full smile again. She grinned back at him, her heart fluttering.

"The Chant teaches us that the Maker gave us passion so that we might build and create. The union of two lives, bound in love, is the epitome of this passion. Few things in this world are more sacred or more joyous to witness. Here, before the Maker and his bride, Andraste, will you, Solana Amell, Hero of Ferelden and Grey Warden, pledge yourself to Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford?

Solana nodded. She hadn't gotten as far as thinking about vows. Her chest was so full of warmth and wonder she didn't know if she could trust herself to speak.

"Cullen…" A good start. Deep breath. "You have watched over me and protected me. You have been through… trials of fire and despite this are the kindest and most honourable man I know. I swear, under the Maker and Holy Andraste, to share your burdens, to protect you and watch over you and to guard you from harm as long as I live."

He was staring at her and she wanted to ask him if what she'd said was okay. But he cleared his throat again.

"I, Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford, pledge myself to this woman, Solana Amell, with my entire heart and soul. I have known since the moment I first laid eyes on her, that I wanted to love and guard her for all of my days. I swear, under the Maker and Holy Andraste, that she will never want for anything, that she will never know pain or discomfort as long as it is in my power to prevent it, and that I will treasure her, that I will be her shield and her sword for as long as I live."

The wave of emotion that his words brought was like a physical force. She had to close her eyes to find her bearing. It would be easy to believe that some sort of spirit had come into the room, had sealed their union. Every part of her felt warm and at peace.

"You may exchange rings," Mother Giselle said. "The rings symbolise your eternal love, the bond you share from this day forward."

Solana went first, slipping the ring Cullen had passed her moments before onto his finger. He was trying to be serious, but the corners of his mouth were betraying him again. She loved that expression, those moments when the carefully controlled exterior was overwhelmed by his true self. He could never be the kind of cold soldier many Templars were. He felt too deeply, he cared too much. And she wouldn't have changed that for the world. He took her hand in his and withdrew the ring he'd purchased for her. It was a thin silver band with runes etched across it. She recognised it as some sort of ring of power. Ordinary wedding rings didn't have etchings. She wanted to ask him what the enchantment was, but she dared not interrupt the ceremony.

"Congratulations." Mother Giselle smiled serenely. "Under the eyes of the Maker, you are now husband and wife."

Cullen wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a kiss.

Her heart was thrumming so fast it felt like she had a bird trapped in her chest, flapping its wings. When their lips parted, he rested his forehead against hers.

"I love you," she said.

"And I love you," he responded and he laughed softly and she knew without asking that it wasn't out of amusement. It was an unguarded moment of sincere joy.

She wanted to stand like that forever, wrapped gently in his arms with their faces close, but life had other demands. He pulled away with a happy sigh.

Jim rose from his seat, still blushing, and requested permission to leave. Which Cullen granted, without looking at him, eyes still gazing down at Salana.

"You realise the whole of Skyhold will know within the hour?" she asked him.

"Jim's one of Leliana's scouts. He can keep a secret."

"You didn't tell him it was a secret."

"Didn't I?" He seemed unconcerned. In fact, his smile broadened.

* * *

Cullen was due to inspect the barracks and then had some evening sparring to oversee. They parted ways reluctantly, agreeing to meet in the courtyard and take the evening meal together. They had yet to discuss sleeping arrangements, but Solana already knew they'd both be living in her room. It was bigger, and, after all the work he'd put in to making it ready for her, she wasn't about to give it up.

She hummed a tune as she made her way up there, picking flowers out of her hair and absently scattering them on the stairs in a bright trail.

She was so caught up in reminiscing about the last few hours that she didn't notice the dark figure lurking in the corner of her room until it spoke.

"When were you planning to tell me?"

Solana jumped, hand flying to her heart. "Leliana! You can't just do that!"

The spymaster minced into the centre of the room, staring at Solana accusingly. She'd expected the news to travel fast. Just not that fast.

"I was planning on telling you. Soon. It wasn't that I chose not to tell you. No one knows yet."

"Hawke knows," she said. She turned to examine one of the paintings on the wall with false nonchalance "And Dorian."

 _How in the Void did they know already?_

"I… I didn't plan it that way. It was spontaneous."

Leliana turned and eyed her quizzically. "What precisely are you talking about?"

"What are _you_ talking about?"

"You're… you're…" she splattered, an echo of her younger self. "You're _with child_."

 _Oh yes, that._

"I didn't tell Hawke and Dorian. They were there when I found out. The demon told me. In the Fade."

She could already see that Leliana was opening her mouth to protest about the likely legitimacy of a demon revealing anything truthful.

"I've confirmed it."

Leliana's eyes darted down to the floor. "How did the Commander take the news?"

"Well. Very well." There was no point in dancing around the truth. Leliana would find out from her scout if Solana didn't tell her now. She held up her hand. Leliana looked puzzled for a fraction of a second, then she squinted at the ring and moved forward, taking Solana's hand as if in a daze.

"That's not the ring you were wearing before."

"No."

Her eyes moved up to meet Solana's. "Did he make you do this? For his reputation?"

Solana almost started laughing at her friend's concern. "Can you honestly imagine anyone making me do such a thing against my will?"

"But he's so… so… serious."

Solana perched on the edge of the bed. "I was under the impression that you two were getting along?"

"I get along with everyone, you should know that," the spymaster said with a sly smile as she leaned against the bed post.

"You don't stay up drinking with everyone." Cullen never had answered her about what had driven him to spend their last night in Halamshiral trying to match Leliana drink for drink.

"Ah, yes. I was wondering when you'd ask for _those_ details."

"And?"

"And my lips are sealed."

"Come on!"

"Nothing scandalous, don't worry."

Solana pouted, but more in play than out of actual upset. She couldn't imagine Cullen doing anything even vaguely scandalous. "Just how drunk was he?"

"Very."

"You're a tease."

Leliana smirked and looked up at the ceiling. "Let's just say he made his feelings for you very clear. Very many times."

"Really?"

Leliana tried for a Ferelden accent. "I love that woman," she said in a slur. "Maker, I love her." Still slurring, she raised an invisible glass. "Have you ever noticed the way the light catches her hair? Did you know, it has gold in it? Maker, she's beautiful, isn't she?"

Solana covered her face with her hands as her body trembled with laughter. "He didn't honestly?"

"Oh yes."

"Please tell me no one else was around?"

"Just us. We scared Morrigan off."

If anything could damper a mood, it was that name. In everything else that had happened, Solana had almost forgotten about the witch. "How is she? Have you spoken to her?"

Leliana shrugged. "Now and then. She's made herself at home in a small room off the garden. She spends most of her time locked up in there working on a project she believes is secret. I'm keeping an eye on it. Some artifact she brought from the palace. Doesn't seem too dangerous, yet."

"But knowing her, it probably will be."

Leliana chuckled. "Do you remember that time you gave her an amulet shaped like a demon because none of us wanted to touch it? She was genuinely delighted."

"Wynne was horrified. She was convinced she'd use it in some dark ritual."

"She probably did."

Silence fell between them. It would have been comfortable, but for the way Leliana was looking at her feet, her eyebrows drawn together.

"Solana…" she paused. Now she was fidgeting with her hood.

Solana's back straightened automatically. "What's wrong?"

The spymaster looked at her, for an instant her eyes large and sad. She was a Leliana from a different time. Then she smiled softly and shook her head. "I was just thinking. Josie's going to kill you when she finds out. You know that, don't you?"

* * *

"All right, so we go in together?" Cullen asked.

Solana rubbed her arms. Even after such a warm day, Skyhold was exceptionally cold after sunset. She should have worn something warmer. He'd have removed his surcoat and draped it around her shoulders, only they were already in the midst of debating how public they should be with their affection.

"Yes, I don't see why not," she said.

He glanced at the door to the main hall where the Inquisition dined every night. They were a little late already. His drills had gone over time.

He resisted the urge to scratch at his neck. "There are probably rumours already," he agreed. "There's no reason for us to pretend."

She nodded. "Should I take your arm, or your hand…"

"That would make a statement."

"Nothing wrong with a statement."

"Although it could lead to questions." Those who hadn't heard the rumours would be intrigued, and that could be inconvenient. Cullen just wanted a nice peaceful meal with his new wife. If they made it too obvious that would become an impossibility.

"Right, so no hands then. We just go in together?"

"Yes. Together." If they stood debating any longer, he was certain she would freeze.

With a deep breath, and a last look at the lovely woman beside him, he pushed open the main doors.

They walked in together. The room was warm and smoky from the braziers. The Inquisitor's throne glinted in the orange light of the candles. There was a roaring chatter as people packed along benches reached over each other to grab food or drink.

Then everything stopped. All at once, as if a spell had been cast.

Cullen stood frozen in the doorway. He reached automatically for Solana, heart slamming in his chest.

Then everyone started to cheer. The entire room erupted into applause and whoops. He saw Varric standing on a bench, waving. Cassandra smiled and shook her head across from him. Even people Cullen didn't know, had never met, were punching the air.

 _Why?_ What had happened? Why were they looking at him? Solana started laughing and leaned in to him while he stood there stunned.

A flash of gold from the end of one of the tables alerted him to Josephine's approach. She was clutching her clipboard, hurrying towards them, shaking her head. When she came within striking distance, she stopped abruptly.

"You might have given me more notice."

"Sorry," Solana said, Cullen glanced at her. Was this her doing?

"This might have been a… a grand ball or a festival. An Inquisition festival, imagine! With every noble in all of Thedas squabbling for an invitation. We could have secured so many alliances."

Solana's hand slipped into his. "Which would be why we didn't tell you." She was smiling brightly and he thought he might have just fallen in love with her all over again.

"Who _did_ tell you, by the way?" she asked the ambassador.

Josephine sighed. "Mother Giselle came to speak with me. It seems she was concerned I might ruin your moment with my own complaints… which I suppose is not too far from the truth. I apologise. I… I didn't have much time to organise. The food is nothing special, but there will be blackberry pie for dessert. Your friend Celeste seemed to think it was significant. And the Inquisitor has arranged for some fine wine. Varric has kept you a seat. I wanted to put you at the head of the table, but he insisted."

"Thank you, Josie," Cullen finally spoke. She blinked at his use of the nickname and he thought perhaps he'd made a mistake. Was he being overly familiar? He'd merely sought to appear friendly. Then the ambassador grinned.

"Right this way," she lead them to their seats. Someone had replaced the usual ale mugs with chalices, worthy of a wedding. Varric was seated across from them, with Hawke at his side. Celeste was squeezed in between Hawke and Bull and she waved, beaming. The Inquisitor shifted closer to Cassandra to make more space for them. Dorian, on her other side, raised a glass.

Cullen didn't often take the evening meal with the others. His work kept him at his desk late. But this was… nice.

Varric stuck out his hand. "Congratulations, Curly." He gave him a wink.

"You should make a toast!" Josephine said, sliding onto the bench beside him.

"Come now, Ruffles. Have you not punished the poor man enough?" Varric chastised her.

"I…" She glanced between Varric and Cullen. "I just thought it might be nice."

"I'll do the toast," Trevelyan said. He grabbed a bottle from the centre of the table and held it up above their heads. "To my trusted Commander and his beautiful new bride. May your lives together be a fantastic adventure filled with endless love."

Everyone else nearby raised their glasses, shouting a chorus of _here heres_ and _congratulations_ and _to the happy couple_.

Josephine managed to pull a bottle opener from somewhere and handed it to the Inquisitor.

"This is supposedly quite good," he said as he untwisted the cork. "It's very old."

He divvied it out between the mugs, steins and glasses. Solana halted him when he came to her chalice. "None for me, thanks."

Varric chuckled as he swirled his drink, letting the ancient wine air. "A rushed wedding and sudden sobriety, people will talk."

Hawke choked on his drink. He was completely unaware of the glare that Bull shot him as he coughed and spluttered. Dorian packed up laughing. Solana turned scarlet.

Cullen was pretty sure the colour in his cheeks was no better.

Varric was eyeing him suspiciously.

"Wine. Strong." Hawke said between gasps for air.

Max was looking down into his mug, oblivious. "Yes, I think it does need to sit a while. I apologise."

Cullen caught Celeste looking from one to the other of them, until her gaze finally settled on Solana. She tilted her head as if in question. Solana offered her a small smile and drew a little closer to him.

He wrapped an arm around his wife. Let them find out. There wouldn't be any hiding it for much longer. Let them all know, he didn't care. This morning when he'd woken up, he had been alone. Now he had a family. Let them talk and let them judge. Nothing could ruin this feeling, this moment. Her body pressed close to his, their child safe within her.

* * *

Celeste crept down to the old enchanter's library.

The sounds of celebration still echoed off the walls. She liked this place. It was dusty and small, but hardly anyone ever came down here. And there were so many books with so much knowledge that hadn't been available in the Circle library.

She'd been in the middle of writing a letter when Josephine had run in to tell her the news of the marriage and the parchment was still out. She hoped Ren would be able to decipher her spidery scrawl. His handwriting was getting better. The last two letters she'd received from him were arguably in a better hand than hers. Jenine was doing a good job teaching the boy. One day, she'd make it up to her. But for now she had other duties. She set the half-finished letter to her son aside and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment.

On it, she wrote two lines.

"She's with child.

Now will you come?"

She signed it only C, then folded it up small and shoved it into her apron pocket. If she set off now, she could make it to the inn and back before dawn.

They had a man who came for post twice a week. It was slower than sending mail through the Inquisition, but it was the only way to keep anything from Lady Nightingale's eyes.


	33. Winter Stillness

A/N: Hello! I'm back! I've written a whole second book for Warded Heart, and it's looking like this will be a trilogy. I'm just waiting on a few edits from my beta before I start posting the rest.

A couple of warnings about part 2: As the title implies, Warded Heart is ultimately about people who struggle to love and be loved. This part is going to be darker than the previous and contain plenty of angst and drama, with far less fluff (something we can hopefully remedy in part 3!). The story also moves away from established canon as we go further in. Some parts of this story are based on my personal speculations and theories. If you disagree with them, I hope that you won't get upset with me and will give the story the benefit of the doubt :).

Mostly, I really hope you enjoy this continuation!

* * *

 _3 Kingsway 9:41 Dragon_

 _Dearest Mia,_

 _I apologise_ _again for the delay in correspondence. I have meant to write. The last few months have been uniquely challenging, but I am enjoying my position in the Inquisition. Also, I am alive. (You requested that I let you know as much, again I apologise for not doing so sooner)._

 _I write to you with a particular piece of news. I expect you will be angry, but I hope you will also be glad for me. I have_ _married. Her name is Solana and she makes me very happy._

 _I would have invited you and the rest of the family to the wedding, of course, had we had one. We chose to have a private ceremony in the Inquisition's small Chantry with no one but a Reverend Mother and a single witness present._

 _Since you could not attend the wedding, I was hoping you (and the rest of the family) might come call on_ _us at Skyhold? I understand it is a long journey, but the roads are not as perilous as they used to be. Our soldiers have seen to it. If you'd prefer, the Inquisitor has granted me permission to send an escort? In fact, it was his idea that you visit. That's not to say I don't want you here. I do. Maker, it will be easier to talk in person._

 _I look forward to your response._

 _Your loving brother,_

 _Cullen_

 _P.S. I have other news I'd rather share when you are here._ _But if you are unable to visit, or have finally lost patience with me.._ _. Please let me know if you are unable to visit, and I will convey it in writing._

* * *

"You know she's going to look like a melon by the time they get here?" Leliana raised her eyes from the letter.

Cullen huffed. "The least you could do is pretend you don't read my mail."

Leliana had called him up to her tower on "urgent" business. Which, apparently, was to discuss his correspondence with his family. Little did she know, it had taken him almost a month to get the words down. He didn't need someone interrogating those words them at this stage.

The spymaster refolded the letter. "You honestly think it will be easier to explain in person? This _is_ you we're talking about, Commander."

"Well, as you so kindly pointed out, I will not need to explain anything. Her condition will be self-evident."

"You don't think that's being a little unfair to her?"

He folded his arms, ashamed to admit he hadn't considered that. Solana was comfortable in her pregnancy. She certainly never acted as if it embarrassed her. He'd heard that women glowed when with child, he had never believed it. But she really did. She was only recently showing, a bump that could have been hidden by loose-fitting robes if she'd wished. Yet, she carried that bump with pride, holding it and caressing it as she went about her day.

"I don't want them to think that is the reason I married her."

"Isn't it?"

"Absolutely not." He paced away, arms still folded. A nearby raven eyed him suspiciously from its perch. "Granted, it may have given me the impetus to propose when I did. Maker knows if I would have gotten the words out otherwise, but I don't want Mia to think that I was somehow forced into this, that it was anything but what I truly desired."

"So, say that."

"I tried!" He rounded on her. "I've tried to construct a letter that truly explains all that's happened, and all that I feel but it reads hollow. It reads like I'm some overly defensive child who's been caught doing wrong. If they can only see her, see us together, they'll know that's not the case."

Leliana's look softened. "Have you considered asking Varric for assistance?"

"If I write a letter using Varric's words, they'll think I've been kidnapped and someone's luring them here under false pretenses."

"A fair point." Leliana sighed and carefully reapplied the seal on the letter while he watched.

"I should add that she plays chess." He reached for the letter, but Leliana swatted his hand away.

* * *

Sparks of elemental discharge glittered down into the lower courtyard. As one, the mages swung around to block imaginary attacks from behind. Their Inquisition-issue silver staffs glinted; their bright robes fluttered.

"And fire!" Solana shouted.

The first two rows twirled their staffs and shot small fireballs out of the main gates. Then the next two rows moved between them and did the same.

"And ice!" Solana paced in front of the stairs, one hand on her stomach, one hand on her own staff, which she was waving as if to emphasise her commands.

Her mages repeated the drill, this time casting ice. By the time the second set was done, the main gates were covered in glittering frost.

"They're behind you!" she yelled.

They swung again to protect themselves from behind.

"McCoy, hold it higher, you're not blocking anything," she admonished one of the mages closest to her. The blond-haired young man flushed and raised his staff.

"And attack." They struck forward, stabbing with the staff blades. "Attack!" They spun the staffs to strike at head level. "Discharge!" They slammed the staffs down, sending bursts of light into the air.

"And again!"

Cullen rested his arms on the upper courtyard wall, taking the opportunity to openly admire his wife. Solana's hair was loose and wild, streaming behind her like flame. She was wearing the deep green robes he liked so much. Her cheeks were flushed and rosy with the exertion, and he knew that he wasn't the only one taken with her. He could see at least a few of the gathered onlookers watching her rather than the practising mages. But it was _his_ child she carried. She was his bride, his _family_ , and he'd thanked the Maker for that fact every day since their union.

She called a halt to the drills and Hawke stepped forward.

"I have something special for you today," he told the mages.

Cullen immediately tensed. He'd seen some of what Hawke considered _special_. Solana's answering grin did nothing to ease his mind.

"No doubt Varric has been spreading stories of my varied accomplishments. Have you heard the one about the mob that wanted to skin us alive for being Qunari sympathisers?"

He didn't wait for response, although Cullen saw a number of the mages nod.

"Room full of bloodthirsty, riled up, hate-filled, scum. Four of us. Nowhere to run."

Cullen sighed. He didn't recall Hawke enjoying the dramatics so much before. Varric must have been rubbing off on him, but the mages were all paying rapt attention, especially the younger ones at the front.

"In that kind of situation," Hawke said, pacing in front of them, "you want an area spell. Something that will knock out a lot of people very quickly. Also, incidentally, good for darkspawn. Shall we?"

Cullen's heart jumped to his throat as Solana nodded.

"Everyone, stand back," she instructed.

The mages and onlookers edged away from Hawke, who was holding out his arms. With another nod from Solana, he closed his eyes and opened his hands. Did his muscles actually ripple or was it just that Cullen knew the raw power into which he was tapping? Hawke's shoulders tensed. He raised his arms.

Solana cast a barrier over them both as flaming meteors manifested above Hawke and plunged to the ground, exploding at their feet. The first line of mages jumped back. Onlookers scrambled to be even further away, reacting to the roaring boom the meteors made rather than actual danger. Cullen flinched at the sound as the small fires left pockmarks across the courtyard. Even he could feel the heat from the spell. It left a ringing in his ears when it was finally done. Solana lowered the barrier and Hawke took a theatrical bow. He was panting.

"As you can imagine," he said between gasps for air, "it's quite the mana drain. Watch out for that."

 _Watch out for…_ wait, he didn't intend to show them how to do that? Surely not?

He started instructing the mages in the methodology behind the spell. Cullen was so entranced he didn't even notice his wife appear beside him until she spoke.

"Enjoying the show?"

He startled and let out a breath. "Are you certain this is wise?"

"You agreed to let me train the mages. We're training them. If you think that means sticking to Chantry-approved spells, I'm afraid we've had a misunderstanding."

"There's a difference between Chantry-approved and… and that."

"Cullen, we'll be sending them against Templars."

"Oh, that certainly reassures me."

She sighed and turned her attention back to her charges. Hawke was busy outlining a training regime that would lead up to what he'd demonstrated, starting with small fireballs Cullen knew they were all capable of already.

He'd been concerned when Solana had first approached him with her proposal. Not in the least bit because he wasn't sure she should be undertaking such physically intensive work in her condition. But her argument had been persuasive. He did daily drills with the Inquisition's soldiers. Why shouldn't she do the same with the mages? She'd roped Hawke in to help her because, as an apostate, he had an entire range of abilities the Circle mages had never seen.

Such as this spectacle.

"This war against Corypheus won't last forever," he said, stiffly.

"And then I suppose you'd have them go back to the Circles?" she shot back.

He'd noticed she'd had a particularly short fuse the past few weeks. Usually he did his utmost not to aggravate her, but this wasn't exactly an argument from which he could back down.

"What would you have them do, live freely?" he asked.

"Why not? I live freely."

"You're not most mages."

"How do you even know that? Have you ever even gotten to know another mage?"

She knew he hadn't, but he'd also disclosed to her how few real friends he did have. The fact that he didn't count mages among them didn't exactly say much.

"I mean only that you're renowned for your willpower. You passed the Harrowing faster than any other mage in that tower. You've resisted temptation on multiple occasions." He did not add how difficult it was when _he_ happened to come up against that willpower. Now, for instance.

"And have we had a single abomination since these mages joined us?" she responded.

He was forced to admit they hadn't.

She turned to him. Her eyes seemed impossibly bright against her flushed face and red hair. "Perhaps there's a reason for that. Perhaps it's because they're happy here. They don't need to make bargains with demons for simple freedoms. Surely, after all you've seen, you of all people know that the Circles don't work?"

She was referring to Kinloch, to Kirkwall. "Those Circles didn't work, but I don't think they're reason to dismiss the idea all together."

"Would you have me locked up in a Circle when all this is over?"

"Solana, love, you know I would not."

She drew a deep breath and gazed back out at Hawke's training session. It looked like he had the mages trying to juggle fire. Cullen didn't want to know.

"Not every mage wanted to leave the Circles," he said softly. "It was taken to vote, more than once. They chose to leave only by a very narrow margin." When she didn't say anything, he continued, keeping his voice low so as not to aggravate her further. "At the moment we fight a common enemy, we're united for a common cause. I worry about what happens when this ends. Will we turn on each other?"

"We?" she picked up on the word. "Mages and Templars?"

He swallowed. That's not what he had meant. "There's also the Wardens."

Even though the Warden mages no longer wore their heavy chainmail, he could pick them out of Solana's ranks. They clustered together, faces serious. He'd seen the same in his own drills. The Wardens kept their own company, and their secrets.

Solana ran a hand through her hair. "So _my_ mages and _my_ Wardens might turn on the ordinary folk. That's your concern."

He had the sinking feeling he was digging himself into a very dark hole. "I didn't say that."

"No, but you implied it. You implied that I should keep them weak in case they become a danger once we've saved the world."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't wish to fight with you."

When she looked at him again fire blazed in her eyes. She opened her mouth for a retort, then seemed to think better of it. Instead Solana drew a breath and her shoulders slumped.

"I don't do things by half measures." A flicker of a smile lit her lips and relief rushed through him. "You may have noticed?"

"It has not escaped my attention "

"I'm going to give you the best army I can. What comes after… We can deal with that then."

He felt he should offer some quip to lighten the mood, but as usual nothing came to him, so he simply nodded. And flinched when something exploded down below them.


	34. Attunement

"Taking up a trade?"

Solana startled at her friend's voice in the quiet barn. Celeste had a way of moving so silently she seemed to bleed from the shadows themselves. Now she stood leaning against one of the barn pillars with her arms folded across her chest. How long she'd been there, Solana couldn't guess.

"Blackwall started this," Solana said, dabbing the wooden rocking horse with bright red paint. She cringed when she noticed how uneven the colour was. Solas had lent her the paints and she hadn't realised why he'd been so amused at her intentions until she'd actually started. Painting required far more mastery than she'd thought.

"Blackwall started it and now I'm ruining it." She sighed, setting down the brush.

"You're just going to carry on calling him that then?" Celeste asked.

"It's the name I knew him by."

It hadn't taken Leliana long to dig up Blackwall's true identity when they'd returned from Adamant. In fact, Solana suspected she might have known all along. It was difficult to reconcile a general who had ordered his men to massacre a family with the man she'd come to know. And yet, it made perfect sense that he wasn't truly a Warden. She'd wondered how he'd managed to cope so well with the effects of the Calling. Well, now she knew.

"In the Fade, when we all saw our fears, he said his were ghosts," she told Celeste. "He regretted what he did, I'm certain of it. There are many less noble ways to run from the law than pretending to be a Warden. How many times must he have faced darkspawn? Faced blight sickness? Knowing he was not immune, doing it anyway."

"You do always see the best in people."

Solana glanced at the mage, detecting a note of sadness in her voice. But it didn't carry to her expression. She was smiling.

"I imagine you didn't come here to admire my brush work?" Solana prompted her.

"No." Celeste's eyes darted down to the floor. "I… I'm not quite sure how to say this. I don't want to overstep." She lifted her gaze to meet Solana's. "Are things alright with you? I mean between you and the Commander?"

"Why wouldn't they be?" The words came as automatically as a Barrier spell.

Celeste shifted as if the conversation was making her deeply uncomfortable. "I've seen you together, around Skyhold. I mean, not that I've been watching intentionally. It's just that my duties take me... " She stopped and seemed to consider her words before speaking again. "When I saw you together after Adamant, you were all smiles. Both of you. Now…"

Now they were always arguing. Celeste didn't have to complete the sentence.

"We're fine," Solana said stiffly. She picked up the paintbrush again just so she'd have something to do besides suffer Celeste's penetrating look. "Cullen is just… Cullen. He's stubborn, over-protective and dedicated to his work."

"Yes, I've noticed lights in his office in the early hours," Celeste said.

Solana paused her hand. "What are you doing venturing around Skyhold in the early hours?"

"Breakfast, mostly."

Of course, the kitchen staff were often up before dawn. But how long before dawn? Solana knew Cullen had been working late, but hadn't expected he'd been working all night.

"That must be hard," Celeste said.

Solana's insides riled against the pity. "It's not so bad. At least when he's working I can sleep."

Why had she said that? The words seemed to come of their own accord. She clamped her mouth shut, but Celeste was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to elaborate.

"I didn't mean that. He has night terrors. Between that and this…" She gestured to her stomach. "It can be difficult. Which is probably why I've been so testy recently."

"And you're not exactly accustomed to sleeping beside someone," Celeste offered.

"There's that too." After years of tents, even the soft bed had taken some getting used to.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them.

"I'm not unhappy," Solana said defensively. "I love him."

"That's all I wanted to know." Celeste pushed away from the pillar.

"We really are fine," Solana assured her. "He's under a lot of pressure. The fate of the world could literally rest on his success in the Inquisition's upcoming campaign. And he's been trying to track down this old friend of his who's now Corypheus's lieutenant or something. He's being very thorough."

Celeste started laughing. "You don't have to sell him to me." She held up her hands defensively. She was already backing to the entrance. "Enjoy your painting."

"That would be easier if I had any talent for it."

Celeste was still chuckling as she moved. She paused by the barn door. "I'm sure we could find a way to help you sleep."

"Like what, a spell?"

"I was thinking more of a potion." She shrugged. "Not my area of expertise, but there happen to be a lot of mages around. I could ask."

"Thanks but… I don't want to risk it." It already haunted her how many potions she'd taken before she'd found out she was pregnant.

"Oh, I'm sure I can find something safe. A tea perhaps?"

Solana hesitated. Celeste seemed to take that for assent. "Tell you what, I'll bring you something tonight. We can drink tea together like a pair of gossiping nobles while your Commander is wrapped up in his work."

The image was amusing. "Don't let him catch wind of it. You know how he feels about the nobility."

"Is that better or worse than he feels about maleficar?"

Solana cringed.

* * *

The candles guttered as the door creaked open and Cullen looked up to find the room had grown almost dark. He hadn't noticed, despite the fact that he'd been squinting at his page for what must have been hours.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Whoever's there, I suggest you come in."

He expected one of his men. There was a patrol out and occasionally they would bring reports in the evening if they considered the matter urgent enough for his attention. What he didn't expect was Solana.

"I'm trying," she said, before she appeared around the door. "Little help?"

He jumped to his feet to open for her. The source of her trouble was immediately apparent. She was carrying a tray, laden with food and - was that a teapot?

His stomach grumbled traitorously. "What are you doing here?" He held the door open. "It's late."

Past her he could see the last red glow of sunset touching the ramparts. The stars were already bright above them.

"And you haven't eaten." She didn't look at him until she'd placed the tray securely on his desk. Then she turned and offered a small smile. "I'm afraid it's only leftovers. I asked if there was any of that bread you liked but unfortunately… Celeste did say she'd keep some for you next time."

"Why are you here?" he asked again.

"I don't know much about being a wife, it's not exactly something they teach in the Circle. But I understand feeding your husband is part of the deal."

She turned from him quickly, before he could formulate a response, and placed one of the plates unceremoniously on top of the report he'd been writing, no doubt smudging the ink. It was a thick stew of some sort with carrots and potatoes. She took another plate, this one carrying grapes and apple slices and laid it on top of one of his strategy books. She held the back of her hand against the teapot and frowned, before pouring out a cup of strong black tea, which she passed to him. He accepted it automatically, still staring at what had become of his workspace.

He walked around his desk. "You don't need to feed me. I don't expect that of you. I am quite capable of feeding myself."

"Are you certain? Because I haven't seen you in the hall in days."

So that's what this was about. Her expression didn't show annoyance. Her mouth had that little humorous quirk and her eyes were sparkling in the dim light. If anything, she radiated warmth.

Still, she must have been feeling neglected. He hung his head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. Eat."

He sank down into his chair. The stew did smell good, even if there was no bread to dip into it. She'd brought a spoon and he took it from the tray, scooping up several mouthfuls of the stew and washing it down with the tea, made exactly as he liked it. He felt her eyes on him, but he was hungry. Hungry enough to eat despite her scrutiny.

"How's it going?" she asked, eventually. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He sighed. "It's going slowly. As you've noticed by my absence. And no, I doubt you can help. Unless you've sent troops into a jungle where everything wants to kill them, with limited supplies and a good chance an archdemon will show up and burn them to death?"

Knowing his wife, it could well be a genuine question. But she shook her head. "Haven't done that one, I'm afraid. But I could help you with research?"

"Start with magical cures for dysentery," he said. He was only half joking.

She came around the desk to stand at his side. His skin tingled at her presence. He leaned into her and her soft fingers ran through his hair. The simple touch was bliss.

" _I_ should be taking care of _you_ ," he said.

"You are."

He looked up at her, perplexed.

"Beating the bad guy before he plunges our world into eternal darkness?" she provided.

Trust Solana to make it sound that easy. He chuckled and stared down at the piece of his report that was sticking out from under his plate. Already he was itching to get back to it.

Maker, he was not a good husband.

He knew this to be true, even though Solana would never say it. He hardly saw her and when he did, they argued. Like that morning.

In the first month of their marriage, it hadn't been like this. They had woken in each other's arms and had fallen into them again when the day was done. In fact they had found themselves in each other's arms so often that he had joked that she'd agreed to marry him only to keep her bed warm.

In those early days, she had always woken when he had, stretching languidly and watching as he washed and dressed as if every aspect of his morning routine was a fascination. And he had been both embarrassed and flattered by the attention.

But now he tiptoed out of their room with the dawn. What was the alternative? She needed her rest.

And he needed to work. He needed to find Samson so that Trevelyan would stand a chance when he came up against him in the Arbor Wilds. Assuming they could make it to the Arbor Wilds in time. Assuming Morrigan's guess was correct and that's where Corypheus was heading.

"I really am sorry," he repeated. "I'll be working late again tonight. Maybe when this is done…"

When this was done, he'd be gone for a month or more, leading his army. But no, he wouldn't think of that. He didn't let his thoughts wander in that direction.

"Don't worry." She smiled down at him, hair a fiery halo in the dim light. "Celeste and I are going to have tea."

That surprised him. "At this hour?"

His expression must have been humorous because she started laughing. "She's going to bring me something to help me sleep."

Cold guilt stabbed him at those words. "I've been keeping you up again."

"It's not your fault."

"It's unfair on you. I should… I can move back upstairs?"

"Cullen, no. I don't want that."

"You need rest."

"Which is why Celeste is making me tea." Her gaze darted to the plate with the fruit. She picked up an apple slice, but didn't eat it. Rather, she toyed with it in her fingers for a moment. Then she sighed. "If anyone should be apologising, it's me. I know I've been… difficult. This morning was a case in point."

That he couldn't deny. He wondered if perhaps this was the true reason for her visit and for the meal. Perhaps she regretted the things she had said. "Solana, I'm not Meredith. I don't believe mages should be incarcerated like criminals. I only want to keep everyone safe."

"Let's not discuss politics."

"It's important to me that you know that. I would never wish for you to be locked away. Circles are meant to protect the mages who need protection."

"Cullen…"

He had more to say on the subject, but he stopped himself at her plaintive look. "Well, no one said it would be easy. A mage marrying a Templar. We were bound to come up against these challenges sooner or later."

She nodded, though she looked sad. He'd said the wrong thing. Or too much.

"Thank you for the meal," he said to break the silence. "It was… very thoughtful. And the stew's just fine without bread."

She looked down at the apple slice again. "I guess I just wanted to make sure you know that I still love you."

Warmth flushed through him at the unexpected statement. "Of course I do. And I love you too. I hope that was never in doubt?"

"No." But her brow creased and her eyes remained fixed on the fruit. "Cullen… we are all right, aren't we?"

Her voice was almost a whisper. The question scared him more than he wanted her to know. Their marriage wasn't conventional by any means. It wasn't at all like his parents' marriage had been. But then their lives weren't conventional either. Ordinary couples didn't have to prevent the world from ending. He wasn't sure how to measure 'all right', but he knew he had to say something.

"Yes, my love. We're perfectly all right."

He was rewarded with a soft smile as she leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek. "Celeste will be waiting. Good luck with your work."

* * *

A/N I'm going to be posting chapters every Monday and Thursday to start with and I might speed up to 3 times a week as we progress :)


	35. Knight-Protector

_17 Kingsway 9:41 Dragon_

 _Cullen,_

 _YOU MARRIED THE HERO OF FERELDEN?!_

 _We will see you soonest._

 _Love,  
_ _Mia._

* * *

"Good session everyone." Hawke kept his tone light as he knelt down. "Dismissed."

The wound wasn't anything that a spell or two couldn't fix. The young mage who'd dropped a meteor on his own foot was doing a good job of keeping it together. He was also keeping his eyes averted from the burnt and twisted boot. Probably for the best.

Hawke glanced at the upper courtyard, hoping to catch Solana's eye to assure her everything was okay, but she was staring off into the distance. Commander Cullen was standing beside her with his arms folded across his chest, pointedly not looking at Hawke.

Hawke smirked. _Good man. Let's just pretend this little incident didn't happen._

He muttered a few words under his breath and cast the spell Anders had taught him for healing minor wounds. Blue magic shot from his palms and danced across the mage's foot in criss-crossed light. Another repetition of the spell and the mage let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Feeling better?"

The mage nodded, biting his lower lip. Hawke almost wanted to instruct him to run to the kitchens and see if they had a treat for him, but resisted the urge and helped him to his feet. He was probably in his early twenties, after all. Funny how the Circle ones always seemed younger.

"You're going to need another pair of boots. Might want to speak to the quartermaster about that."

"Thank you, I will, ser," the mage said.

Hawke rolled his eyes. "I'm not a ser. It's just Hawke." From the edge of his vision, he saw Solana starting to move away. He patted the mage on the back and dashed past him.

"Solana!"

She turned, raising her eyebrows quizzically. Cullen stopped too, standing at her shoulder like a bodyguard. In fact, that's probably exactly what the Commander fancied himself as. He had a strange tendency to show up just as Hawke was getting into the more complex (okay, yes, _dangerous_ ) spellwork with the mages.

Hawke stooped and grabbed the scroll that had arrived with the post that morning before hurrying up the stairs to meet them.

"I was hoping you had a minute," he said, slightly out of breath. Maker, he was not as fit as he used to be. He waved the scroll at her.

"Of course."

"We should sit." He indicated the bench nearby with a tilt of his head.

Cullen followed his wife silently. Hawke could feel the Commander's disapproval practically steaming off him. It had been nearly four years since they'd been on opposite sides of a small war, but possibly that wasn't quite long enough.

Solana perched on the edge of the bench, looking at Hawke expectantly. Cullen stood beside her, a possessive hand on her shoulder. What did he expect, that Hawke had some blood magic ritual planned that he would use to lure his wife over to the dark side?

He sat beside her and carefully opened the scroll tube. "Do you remember, when we were in the Fade, I mentioned we might be related?"

Her back straightened. "Of course I do."

"Well I wasn't completely sure you would, I mean so many _interesting_ things were revealed that day…" He smiled at her and she returned the smile, hand travelling unconsciously to her belly. Hawke eased the roll of parchment and vellum out.

"I wrote to my uncle when we got back here. I had to promise him significant coin and a lifetime's supply of drink, but he went through his chest of family do-dads and put this together for you." Hawke handed her the documents. "It's all we have on your branch of the family tree."

Her eyes went wide as she took hold of the scroll. She held it as if he'd just passed her the ashes of Andraste.

"We don't... " she said. "You don't know for certain that they're mine. It was only a theory."

"Well yes, but I've taken a look at the pictures and there does seem to be a resemblance."

"Pictures?" she sounded breathless.

Hawke reached across to unroll the package. A number of loose pages sprung free. The first of these was an etching of a young woman. It reminded him a lot of his mother. So much so that when he'd first seen it, his chest had physically ached. But there was something about the eyes and the tilt of the chin that was pure Solana.

He pulled it flat. "Revka Amell."

Her fingers hovered over the page. "My mother… it's my mother, isn't it?"

He nodded. "There are other pictures too." He unwound the scroll further. A smaller etching slipped out and he caught it before it fell down to her lap. "This is one of the family together."

The etching must have been a smaller copy of a much bigger portrait. The Amells were standing in front of a sweeping staircase. Everyone looked painfully serious. This portrait had clearly been an Occasion. Hawke pointed to the old man seated in the centre on a grand chair. "Lord Aristide Amell, my grandfather." He moved along the rows. "And here's your grandfather, my great uncle Fausten. I'm afraid your uncle Damio - this one grinning like a fool - was a bit of a scoundrel by all accounts. Oh and here she is, Revka."

He'd intentionally skipped Gamlen and his mother. He didn't want Solana to ask about her. One day he'd tell the story, but not yet. She took the picture reverently, narrowing her eyes to make out all the details she possibly could. Then she held it up to Cullen so he might look.

"I'm ashamed I never made the connection before," Cullen admitted, leaning down to peer at the gathered Amells.

"And so you should be," Hawke teased. "I thought living in Hightown meant you had to know the noble families by rote?"

"The noble ones, yes," he said without altering his expression.

"I believe I just heard you make a joke, Commander."

"It has been known to happen," Solana said with a fond smile. "Not often, but it happens."

Cullen straightened. "I kept out of politics as much as I could."

"You and I both," Hawke responded.

Solana shot him a look and he shrugged. "As much as I _could_. I didn't choose to get involved. I was in it for the coin. Ask Varric, he'll tell you."

"He'll tell me you single-handedly fought off a pirate invasion at midnight on the sacred ground of the Chantry."

"Oh, you've heard that one, have you?"

Solana hugged the scroll to her chest. "Thank you, Hawke. I will treasure these."

He could tell by her expression that she was genuinely touched and it made him feel all warm and fuzzy. He'd forgotten how good it felt to help people. "Don't mention it, cuz. Just name your baby after me."

He was certain the Commander turned a shade paler.

"On second thoughts, don't do that," Hawke added quickly. "Garret is a terrible name. Why do you think I make people call me Hawke?"

* * *

Cullen didn't hear the scout approach over the clang of steel on wood. Sunlight glanced off metal as his men practised, and dust swirled up from where their feet danced. They were doing well. They had their technique down. Now all they needed was to hone their instincts.

"Commander, ser. There's someone here to see you," the scout said, startling him more than he would have liked. Even if it hadn't been for the din, he might not have heard the man's approach. Leliana's people always moved so silently.

"Now?" Cullen asked. He didn't look at the scout. His eyes were fixed on one of his newer recruits who wasn't quite keeping up with his partner. It looked like an injury about to happen. "Braggend, ease off! Hallard, pay attention before you lose that arm."

"She wanted to speak directly to you, ser. No one else," the scout said.

Cullen's heart leapt and his throat constricted. Could it be Mia? If so, they'd made the trip incredibly quickly. He straightened his coat and called to the men to take a break as he followed the scout.

But it wasn't his sister waiting in the lower bailey. The woman was middle-aged and wore a brown nondescript cloak. She stood before a cart laden with boxes. He would have dismissed her as just another traveller, had it not been for the men who accompanied her. Cullen counted four at a glance, lurking around the cart. They too wore nondescript armor - iron and leather it looked like. But they had a familiar bearing.

Templars.

Cullen rested his hands on his sword hilt as he approached her. "I am Commander Rutherford. I hear you asked for me?"

A smile flittered on her lips. "Commander, you won't believe how good it is to see you." She stuck out a hand. "My name's Sister Bernys. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"

He narrowed his eyes, not certain whether he should agree to it. A Chantry sister travelling with Templars who had somehow not succumbed to Corypheus. It was curious enough for him to gesture towards his office.

The hole in the roof was the first thing to catch her attention, but she didn't comment on it. Then her eyes drifted around the office, resting a little longer on the empty lyrium box than they should have.

"How can I help you, Sister?"

"I have been sent as a gesture of goodwill from Queen Anora. Your Inquisition has been of immense assistance thus far."

He was aware that they'd rooted out some Venatori who'd been lurking in the palace, and that Josephine had been dispatched recently to assist in negotiations with Orlais.

"If this is Inquisition business, it's best you speak to the Inquisitor."

"The queen ordered me to speak to you specifically."

He quirked his head. "You'll forgive me if I find that a bit… odd. I've never had any personal dealings with the queen."

"But your wife has. Her Majesty specifically stated that she would trust the Hero with her life. As a matter of fact, she has in the past. She has your wife to thank for her throne."

He remembered hearing that. Alistair had been the rightful heir, but he had apparently held no interest in being king. Solana had supported Anora's claim, stating that she was most qualified to lead the kingdom through troubled times. It was a move that had shocked many considering her well-known personal relationship with Alistair and her dealings with Anora's father.

"I'm sorry, Sister, but I'm still not sure what this has to do with me. If you wish to speak to my wife, I can find her for you."

"You are a Templar."

"I _was_ a Templar," he corrected her. "Now I am Commander of the Inquisition's forces."

Bernys shook her head. "You are Templar-trained. It is enough. She trusts the Inquisition, she trusts the Hero and she trusts your training. Which makes you the only person she felt she could trust with my delivery."

The hairs on the back of Cullen's neck prickled. "What is your delivery?"

Bernys's mouth quirked in a way that reminded Cullen a little of Morrigan. For the first time he could see that this sister was perfectly capable of escorting a dangerous cargo up to Skyhold.

"I come from Denerim, Commander. I bear Chantry robes and I am escorted by Templars. Surely you can hazard a guess?"

He shook his head. He despised guessing games. "I'd rather not."

She strode to the window. She appeared to be gazing out, but he knew better. She was checking to make sure they truly were alone. Then she turned to him.

"In troubled times like these, there are certain Chantry… possessions… that should be kept out of the wrong hands. Hands that would, perhaps, destroy them. Or worse, hands that would use these… possessions… for blood magic rituals that controlled the minds of their… owners."

And then he realised what she meant. His heart kicked in his chest. "Denerim," he repeated. "I know what's stored in Denerim."

"I thought you might."

 _Phylacteries._

"You brought them here? On an open _wagon_? Are you _insane_? Does Her Majesty know we're aligned with the rebel mages?"

"She is aware that the Inquisition is aligned with the rebellion, yes. If you recall, she was present in Redcliffe when your Inquisitor offered them the alliance."

Cullen started pacing. "What does she expect me to do? Hide them from the Inquisitor? Because I won't do that. I can't."

"How you handle them is your decision, Commander. Her instructions were only that I pass them into your safe keeping. She trusts that as a Templar - I beg your pardon, a former Templar - you will make the right decision. Keeping them in their prior location became too much of a danger. With Corypheus, Venatori, talk of a demon army, not to mention those corrupted Templars, what are you calling them? Red Templars? Some of whom knew the location… she knows that the Inquisition has the walls and the skills to protect them."

"I'm surprised she didn't just have them shattered."

The sister quirked an eyebrow. "Once this war is done, there may not be an Inquisition. The future of the mages is unclear."

It chilled him that these were an echo of the words he'd said to Solana, not two weeks prior. "And the queen would rather we have the option to round them up again should it be required?"

"I am not to know the mind of Her Majesty, but I would imagine so."

* * *

"Break them."

Cullen had avoided telling almost everyone about his surprise delivery. He'd told Trevelyan of course, and he had hand picked a few of his most trusted men to carry the boxes to an old storeroom where they could be held securely until they figured out what to do with them.

The choice to tell his wife had not come easily. He knew what her view would be, of course. But despite their disagreements, he couldn't imagine keeping something so large from her.

Now he wondered if he'd been mistaken as he watched her pace in front of their fireplace.

"Cullen, the phylacteries are like… like your lyrium leash. But worse. If they fall into the wrong hands every single one of our mages could be mind-controlled to do unspeakable things."

He was sitting on the edge of their bed. "The Crown has entrusted me with this duty. I can't very well just -"

"You said she wasn't specific."

"If she'd meant for them to be destroyed, she would have done it herself. Considerable effort went into getting them here safely."

"Or she felt unqualified to decide what to do with them. It would cause problems between her and the Chantry if she could be tied to their destruction. She's thinking politically. She always does. Her father raised her that way."

Teyrn Loghain, Solana's one-time nemesis. The stories said he'd raised his daughter with an eye on that throne. She'd claimed it first through marriage to King Cailin. Then Loghain betrayed Cailin and took that throne for himself. Cullen had often wondered what had happened to the man to make him do such a thing. Prior to that, he'd been a war hero. He was known as a great military mind, and Cullen had to admit that if his daughter had even a fraction of his cunning, Solana's theory made sense. Still…

"If that was her intention, she would have passed them directly to you, surely? I told you, the sister said she trusted you. But they wanted a Templar."

She rounded on him. "Does it even matter what she intended?"

"It matters to me." The queen had entrusted them to him. He would not betray that trust.

Solana seemed to deflate. She was silent for a time, staring into the flames.

He'd had the fireplace constructed in the spot where her garden had been. She'd been sad for the loss, but they couldn't very well have a baby sleeping in a room with an open ceiling. A few times in the past fortnight he'd returned to their quarters to find her asleep in a chair in front of the hearth, the light of the dying embers painting her face as orange as her hair. The tea Celeste had given her seemed to be working. He'd been able to carry her to bed without her so much as stirring.

Now she came to sit beside him. "What if we give the phylacteries to their rightful owners? Or give the mages the choice? You said not all of them wanted to be free?"

Those hadn't been the words he'd used. Some of the mages had been content to live in the Circles. It wasn't the same thing, but it was hardly worth starting a fresh argument over semantics.

"It's a possibility," he said. "But I think our primary purpose needs to be to keep them out of the grasp of Red Templars - or anyone aligned with Corypheus. And that means keeping their existence secret. Maker knows how we'll manage that in this place."

It had taken all of a day for everyone in Skyhold to hear of their secret marriage, after all. They'd kept the baby a secret for just under a week after that… but he suspected everyone had known well before they'd let on as much to him.

"I'll ward the room," she said. "I know a spell. It kept the darkspawn out of our camp. It should keep curious Inquisition members at bay."

"Thank you."

She probably didn't realise how much that small show of support meant to him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, kissing her temple and revelling in the smell and feel of her.


	36. Stormbringer

Cullen sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat, chest heaving. It took him a moment to register that the pounding on the door was not a part of his nightmare.

Solana placed a hand on his arm. She was looking at him with bleary eyes, her hair a wild mess.

"Hold on!" he yelled.

 _Had he overslept?_ He fumbled for his breeches and was still tying them when he opened the door a crack to find one of Leliana's scouts outside. The grey light indicated it wasn't long after dawn.

"The Inquisitor requests your presence in the war room, Commander," the scout said crisply.

A meeting? This early? "What's this about?"

"He didn't say, ser."

It must have been urgent. Cullen's chest tightened. Had Corypheus made another move? Were they too late? Or was it the phylacteries? Had they been discovered? Stolen? Destroyed?

"I'll be a minute."

He closed the door in the man's face and grabbed for his clothes.

"What is it?" Solana asked.

"Meeting. He didn't say why."

"I'm coming too."

He thought of arguing, but he knew he'd lose and it would only waste valuable time. If the Inquisitor took issue with Solana's presence, then he'd have to dismiss her himself.

Cullen didn't bother with his usual morning grooming. He splashed his face in the basin and ran a comb through his hair. Solana didn't even do that much. She threw a robe on and twisted her wild hair into a tight bun, through which she slid a single wooden needle.

Cullen's heart was beating a frantic rhythm as they walked through Josephine's empty office. The rest of Skyhold was quiet. Whatever emergency had occurred, it hadn't been shared with the rest of the Inquisition yet. That only made Cullen more nervous.

He paused with his hand on the war room door and took a steadying breath before pushing it open.

The whole council wasn't present yet. A surge of relief rushed through him that he wasn't the last to arrive. Max was standing with his back to the door, outlined in the early morning light. Josephine was fidgeting next to him. She startled when Cullen opened the door.

But the relief was short-lived. Hawke was also there and as Cullen pushed the door further open, he realised he was talking to someone. Someone with long blond hair tied up in a messy bun and black feathered pauldrons, weathered by four years on the run.

"You," Cullen growled.

Anders turned his attention to Cullen and gave him a bright, if somewhat hesitant smile. "Long time no see. It's Commander now, isn't it?"

Blood roared in Cullen's ears. It took all of his training and discipline not to launch himself physically at the man.

Trevelyan cleared his throat. "As you see, we have a situation that I thought required your attention."

"A situation?" Anders's eyebrows shot up. "I don't know whether I should be flattered or scared."

Josephine stepped in. "With all due respect, you are a wanted criminal. Usually we would be happy to accept an offer of help from someone as accomplished as yourself, but -"

"- but many of your allies want me dead?" Anders finished for her.

He didn't wait for her to answer. He looked to the Inquisitor. "Hawke told me that you'd aligned yourselves with the rebel mages. If your allies have been so understanding about that, I don't see how I would be any different?"

"You blew up a chantry," Cullen snarled.

He heard an intake of breath from his side. "Anders?"

Solana must have only just recognised him. He was no longer the primped troublemaker of legend she'd known at the Circle. Now his stubble, tousled hair and hollow cheeks were much more reminiscent of the terrorist he'd grown into.

He smiled benignly. "Solana." He reached out, as if to take her hand, but Cullen stepped in front of her automatically and Anders dropped his arm and fidgeted. "Hawke told me you were here. I was surprised to learn you'd become the Hero… you were always so quiet." His eyes darted back to Cullen's face and he cleared his throat. "I must admit, when Hawke told me of your marriage I thought he was having me on. Last time Cullen and I spoke I believe it was 'mages cannot be our friends, they must always be watched'."

Shame heated Cullen's neck. He didn't want Solana to hear he'd once thought those things, and he knew that was exactly why Anders was repeating them.

Solana spoke before he could. "Oh, I'd say marrying me is a brilliant way to keep an eye on me. Why are you here?"

Her hand slipped into Cullen's and his heart beat a little faster. Usually he would think holding hands in a council meeting wildly inappropriate, but now that small reassurance meant everything.

Anders glanced at the Inquisitor, but Trevelyan nodded for him to answer Solana.

"Do you want the official answer or the honest one?"

"Give me both and I'll see which I prefer."

He chuckled. His eyes slid to Hawke. "I can see the resemblance already."

Hawke, Cullen noticed, seemed less than pleased. He wasn't glaring the way that Cullen was. But his face bore little expression and he had his arms folded across his chest.

"Alright," Anders said. "The official reason is that Hawke has been keeping me up to date on your Inquisition. You're saving the world, and I want to be a part of that. Well, Justice wants to be a part of that. I think I want that too."

"Talking about Justice probably isn't helping your case," Hawke advised softly.

"Right. Well. I'm a very skilled healer. I have other talents as well, but that's my specialty. I want to lend my skills to your cause." He shrugged.

"If our cause is so important to you, why only come now?" Solana queried."Hawke joined us months ago."

Cullen knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"In addition to being a superb healer, I am also a Grey Warden."

Solana didn't say anything for a moment. Silence hung thick in the room. Not even Josephine stepped in to ease it.

"Hawke failed to mention that," Solana said eventually. Her grip tightened on Cullen's hand as her eyes met her cousin's. The look burned and Cullen was grateful that for once he wasn't the subject of her shortened temper. "So when I told you about the Calling…"

Hawke nodded. "Yes, I had some idea what you must have been going through, but not why."

"Don't blame him," Anders said. "I never chose to be a Grey Warden and I left as soon as I could. I'm afraid I didn't pay much attention when they were explaining the side effects." He gave her a disarming smile. "Hawke had me locked in a room, under guard, while you were sorting it all out. Which would be why I didn't join sooner."

"I thought Aveline was _still_ watching you," Hawke commented, again talking softly and with very little emotion. It was odd behaviour from him.

"Oh, she was," Anders's eyes seemed to sparkle with silent humour. "Unfortunately for her, I'm particularly adept at escaping." Then, with a glance at Trevelyan, "Another one of my skills."

Hawke covered his face with his hands.

"Don't worry," Anders assured him. "I sent her a message as soon as I was well away. And I didn't hurt her, if that's what you're concerned about. Although had we stayed in that house any longer I can't promise that would have remained the case."

"And the truth?" Solana asked.

Anders blinked at her.

"You said you'd tell me both the official reason and the truth," she reminded him. "That was the official version."

He looked to Hawke and Cullen thought maybe he was about to ask him something. Then he seemed to notice the posture, the way Hawke was not himself. Anders paused, his eyebrows drawing together, his eyes narrowing.

"I would think that should be obvious," he said, not to Solana but to Hawke.

"Anders…" Hawke's voice came from behind his hands. "We spoke about this."

"We spoke about a month, maybe two."

"And I told you my reasons for staying."

"All perfectly valid. Which is why I wouldn't have asked you to leave." He glanced up at Trevelyan. "So here I am. And I do wish to help. Fighting injustice is sort of my thing. Plus, you've aligned with both mages and Wardens. I don't wish to belabour the point, but I fit into both categories." His gaze shifted to Josephine. "I heard the story you crafted for the Wardens. You just happened to meet them at Adamant where they were attempting their own solution? And you peacefully agreed to align, did you? You're clearly quite skilled at weaving believable stories. I'm relatively certain I shouldn't provide too much of a challenge."

"You're a murderer," Cullen responded, before he could stop himself.

"And the other Wardens weren't?"

"The other Wardens thought they were doing the right thing."

"As did I! I only did what was necessary."

"Necessary? Slaughtering a hundred innocents in a big symbolic gesture, that's necessary?"

"Do you think your lovely wife would be here right now if it weren't for my _symbolic_ gesture? She'd be locked in a tower somewhere. Your child would be raised as an orphan."

He didn't bother arguing, even though he knew that wasn't the case. No one would dare put the Hero of Ferelden in a Circle, even if she weren't a Warden herself. He turned instead to appeal to Trevelyan. "Inquisitor, surely you're not considering this? This man is dangerous. He's unpredictable. He's an abomination."

Anders lifted his hand. "Ah, technically not an abomination. Justice is a spirit, not a demon."

"It's all the same."

"It really isn't."

"Gentlemen," Trevelyan cut in. "Cullen, I do see your point, but Anders isn't wrong. We've hardly been picky about our allies up to this point."

No, he certainly hadn't. Trevelyan had accepted every single offer of help he'd received, even from those with clear ulterior motives. "Perhaps now is the time to begin," Cullen said stiffly. A tight ball of rage was growing in his chest. "Or are we going to start accepting aid from terrorists as a point of fact?"

"Commander, I've noted your thoughts."

Cullen forced himself to take a deep breath. He was bordering on insubordination.

"Josie, will you go get the others? I think we will need a full vote after all," Trevelyan said.

The ambassador nodded and swiftly left the room, no doubt relieved to be away from the growing tension. Once the door was closed, Trevelyan turned to Solana.

"Your thoughts?"

Cullen felt her stiffen. "I agree that we should be cautious of accepting anyone with a proven track record of destruction," she said. "However."

His heart started drumming again. _No, no, no. Please, not you._

He felt her eyes on him, looking at him carefully before continuing. Could she see what her hesitation was doing to him?

"However," she repeated. "It would be hypocritical of me to tell everyone to forgive the other Wardens, other mages, and not offer that same benefit of the doubt where he's concerned. I'm sorry Cullen. The Inquisition does need strong allies."

He let go of her hand and folded his arms to wait for the rest of the council to arrive.

* * *

"I can't _believe_ you did that," Cullen repeated again.

Solana was following after him as he marched towards the barracks. He couldn't even look at her.

"I can't just say what you want me to say! What do you want me to do, pretend to agree with you when I don't?"

The meeting had been a mess. It had gone on far too long. He'd stated his concerns again, for all the others to hear. He'd told them what Anders had done to Kirkwall. Cassandra had stood with him. Of course she had. She couldn't forgive the loss of a chantry, and she'd been elbow-deep in the war that Anders had started ever since.

Cullen had had high hopes for Leliana. Then Hawke had surprised everyone by saying that if Anders was forced to leave, he would leave too.

Even though Leliana didn't say so, Cullen was certain that's what had swayed her. Losing one potentially useful resource was inconvenient, losing two was unacceptable.

Morrigan, who seemed to have appointed herself to their council, voted he be allowed to join. Whether out of some apostate kinship or because she had some ulterior motive, Cullen didn't know.

Josephine had decided to remain neutral, which meant it was a hung vote. That is until Trevelyan had looked to Solana, the great Hero of Ferelden.

She had repeated what she'd said before. He deserved the benefit of the doubt the same as the other mages and Wardens.

Now Cullen spun to face her. "What do I want? I want you to choose to give _me_ and _my_ concerns the benefit of the doubt before a known terrorist!"

Solana started. He'd never been this angry with her. The only time she'd ever seen this side of him had been when she'd found him in Kinloch Hold Circle Tower and he'd been very nearly insane.

She didn't say anything. She was breathing heavily. There was no sign of the defiant fire in her eyes. They were wide and… frightened?

"I need… I need some time," he said, not trusting himself to say anything more. He turned back and continued his route to the barracks. She was wise enough not to follow.

Cullen had only been settled in his office for a few minutes before someone rapped on his door.

"What!"

It opened a crack, the recruit outside shifting nervously. Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "What is it?" he tried again.

"Its… well… it's your family, Commander. They've just arrived."

* * *

Solana pressed her back against the cold stone wall outside their room, trying to control her breathing. She quickly dabbed the corners of her eyes.

 _No,_ she scolded herself. _Not now._

She'd never had much trouble controlling her emotions, but recently it was like being on a runaway stallion. Her frustration at Cullen at completely drained away now and left her only with a hollow sadness. She stood by what she'd said to the council. In the past few months she'd spoken with Hawke at length about Anders. He was more than just a terrorist. While she'd been camping in the mountains after the Blight, he'd been slaying darkspawn. And then he'd dedicated years of his life to helping refugees. Yes, what he'd done in Kirkwall had been bad. Terrible. And Hawke had said many times how he wished it had never come to that. But did that mean they should just dismiss him now? Lose both him and Hawke? Now? When they were so close to finally confronting Corypheus head on?

At first she'd been angry that Cullen had seen her vote as a personal betrayal.

But now her emotions had calmed, she knew it _had_ been a personal betrayal, to him. She was the one who was supposed to stand at his side no matter what. Disagreeing about the future of mages behind closed doors was one thing. This had been something else.

And now she felt like her insides were covered in ice. Guilt tasted bitter at the back of her throat. She knew she needed to pull herself together. It had been a few minutes since the recruit had called her to go meet the Rutherfords.

To say it was bad timing would have been a vast understatement. She'd practically rolled out of bed into her robes for the council meeting, and the look on Cullen's face when he'd left...

When she had pictured this introduction to his family, she'd imagined him leading her forward with an arm around her and announcing her proudly. It wouldn't have mattered that she was heavy with a child they knew nothing about, and it wouldn't have mattered that she was a mage, because they would have seen how happy he was, how happy they were together. And even if they were doubtful about her, it wouldn't have mattered because he would would have been there to reassure her.

Now she had to go down there alone. Alone and weeping. And she was pretty certain he hated her.

 _Stop it._ She cursed herself, brushing at her eyes again. Since when was she the type to cry? And why now of all times?

 _You've fought demons. You've walked in the Fade. Going down to the courtyard to meet your husband's family is not frightening._

She forced herself forward, onto the stairs. She could see a cluster of people down in the lower bailey beside a cart. A big cluster.

What if she just stayed in their room? Cullen probably wouldn't return until tonight. She could put this off until she was feeling better. Claim she was ill.

But then what if she came upon them by accident later in the day? That would be far worse. And dreading it would be far worse. Rather do this now. Get it behind her.

She paused again at the top of the second flight of stairs. A maudlin song drifted out of the tavern. _Maker have you left me here…_ Now she could see individual people. Cullen was there already. A woman with wild blonde curls had him locked in a tight hug. There was a man standing a little behind her, beside a woman with a baby on her hip. The baby had a ruffle of yellow hair and its thumb in its mouth. Cullen pried himself free of the woman's grip to shake the man's hand. Then another woman darted around the cart, almost bowling Cullen over with another hug. She also had blonde hair, but it was straight and shining.

Solana clutched her stomach. She could do this. One step, then another. Slowly down the stairs. Just one at a time.

The woman with the curly hair was the first to spot her, over Cullen's shoulder. She said something and he turned. He'd been smiling, but the smile disappeared as soon as he saw Solana and something in her shattered.

Tears threatened again. _No, no, no._ He was coming towards her. _You've already betrayed him today, you won't embarrass him by crying in front of his family._

The Rutherfords pulled together, staring at her with open curiosity. Another man came around the cart to join them, an in-law she supposed. Cullen reached out a hand for her. She took it hesitantly.

"This is my wife. Solana," he said to his siblings. His grip on her hand was firm, but there was no warmth in it. He pulled her forward gently, guiding her to them.

"And that is the other news you failed to mention in your letter, I presume?" the woman with the curls said with an arched eyebrow.

It was the first time Solana had felt insecure about her pregnancy, the first time she'd wanted to hide it.

"Yes," Cullen said. "I wasn't quite sure how to explain."

Solana wondered if an attack on Skyhold right this minute would really be so bad. A dragon, perhaps. Swooping down and burning the ramparts. Not hurting anyone, of course, but providing a distraction from the way they were all looking at her.

"Are you really the Hero of Ferelden?" the straight-haired girl asked.

Solana nodded. "That's what they like to call me."

She imagined she looked nothing like a hero right at that moment.

Cullen cleared his throat. "Sorry. This is Mia," he indicated the curly-haired one. "And this is Rosalie." The one with the straight hair. "And that's my brother Branson. I'm afraid I… I um.."

Mia stepped forward, offering Solana her hand. "What he's trying to say is that he can't introduce you to our spouses because he's never met them."

Solana freed her hand from Cullen's to shake Mia's, and in truth it was a relief. Mia introduced her husband, Jeremy, and her sister-in-law, Maralie, and the baby, Branson junior.

"Let me show you to your rooms," Cullen said. "Our ambassador insisted you take our guest wing."

"Isn't that for visiting dignitaries or something?" Rosalie wanted to know as they started walking.

Cullen smiled a little at that. "Indeed it is. You'll have to be on best behaviour."

She punched him in the arm, her fist clanging against his armour. "Ow!"

He laughed and the sound of it would have made Solana feel a little better, if he hadn't still been avoiding looking at her.


	37. Barrier

"So tell me honestly, Cullen. Were you pressured into this?"

Mia was perched on the edge of his desk, staring at him frankly with those sharp brown eyes. For all their years apart, she had hardly changed. The laugh-lines around her mouth were slightly deeper and there were vague creases at the corners of her eyes, but otherwise she looked precisely as she had on his last visit home before he'd left Ferelden.

He'd known what was coming the moment she'd asked to see his office.

"No," he said.

She shook her head, sending her curly hair bouncing. "Because by my calculations…"

"No." He interrupted her before she continued with the sentence. "I mean, yes… your calculations are correct but that's not..." He swallowed. This was the exact conversation he'd been afraid of, the one Leliana had warned him about. He drew a deep breath and walked over to the window. Maybe it would be easier if he was staring out at the snowy landscape and not at his elder sister.

"When I was assigned to Kinloch Hold, she was there. She was one of my charges."

"Oooh," Mia said suggestively.

"It wasn't like that."

"I'm only teasing."

"Kindly stop. This is… this is difficult enough as it is." He ran a hand through his hair. Where to start? "I developed inappropriate feelings for her, but I never would have acted on them. I was trained to believe such relationships could not exist."

"That's when you were with that Templar girl?"

He tensed. _That Templar girl_ … his first. He tried not to think of her. When he did, it was as part of the nightmares. He'd forgotten he'd mentioned her in his letters. That had been back when he'd been better at writing. Before…

"It was before I was with Annlise," he told his sister. _And during, and after._ The thing with Annlise had been brief and intense. Not explicitly forbidden but certainly frowned upon. They'd kept it quiet and their inevitable breakup had been mutual. He'd been too focused on training, on his work. She had wanted more than he could give. Yet even so many years later, he couldn't think about her without feeling a hollow pain in his chest.

"So you had a crush on her?" Mia prompted, steering his thoughts back to Solana.

"I… yes." He scratched the back of his neck. "When the Circle... she saved my life. But I… I couldn't even look at her. She was a mage. I didn't see her again for a decade. I was… troubled."

"You never did tell me what happened there?" Mia asked with surprising gentleness.

He shook his head. "I'd rather not speak of it, even now. Suffice it to say a large number of mages took to blood magic and staged an attack. I was… not the same after that. I didn't write because I couldn't. I couldn't put into words everything that had happened."

He dared to look at her. She didn't seem angry. Her eyes were full of sympathy.

"I encountered Solana again only recently. She was concerned about the Breach." And Wardens practising blood magic, but no need to go into that. "She joined the Inquisition. I was surprised to find my feelings for her unchanged, despite the years apart. Every moment I spent with her, the feelings grew. She is incredible. She is a force of nature. All the stories they tell about her are true. I wanted to marry her the moment she admitted she shared my feelings." He didn't mention how he'd asked her to move in with him two days later, but he felt himself colouring at the thought. "The pregnancy was unintentional, but is not unwelcome."

Mia was staring at him.

"What?"

She shook her head and smiled. "Look at you, having feelings."

He stiffened and she laughed, hopping off the desk. "I'm sorry to pry, Cullen. I know how uncomfortable it makes you. I just wasn't sure, I mean you don't seem particularly close."

Trust Mia to always put things plainly.

"How do we not seem close?" he asked defensively.

"I don't know. Body language. I suppose public displays of affection are unlike you."

"They're not." The words came out before he could stop them. He closed his eyes. _Maker's Breath._ "It's been a difficult month."

When Mia didn't say anything he opened his eyes to find her looking at him with eyebrows raised. He knew she wanted him to say more, but how did he begin to give voice to feelings he didn't even like admitting to himself?

"I shouldn't say." He reasoned he wasn't being cowardly, it really was none of her business.

Mia came closer. "Nonsense."

"Mia…"

"I'm your big sister. If you're having trouble, I want to know of it."

"I wouldn't say it's trouble precisely."

He was still smarting about Anders. But when he'd seen Solana in the courtyard... the way she'd looked at him… oh, Maker, the look in her eyes. Like she was holding back tears. He'd been too harsh. He was too brash. He couldn't communicate properly. That added to how distanced he'd been from her recently…

"I'm just, not very good at marriage…" he said. "She deserves better."

Mia snorted. "Where in the Void is that coming from?"

"You know me." He gestured to the scrolls and books littered across his desk.

"I do," she said. "My serious brother, always working hard, never opening up. But if she didn't know that when she married you then she's the fool."

"Don't say that. She's not."

"If she's not a fool, then she knows and accepts who you are."

This had been a mistake. "It's one thing to accept something on an intellectual level. It's quite another to live with it."

"Cullen, before you go any further, I'd like to point out that she's pregnant."

"I'm aware of that, thank you."

"Pregnant women are notoriously irrational. If she's said anything…"

"She hasn't."

"So where are you getting this from?"

He growled and paced across the room. He didn't want to have this conversation. "We argue. A great deal. Recently it feels as though I'm either working or arguing."

"How very familiar." He glared at her and she chuckled. "I'm not talking about you. Although those last few months you were at home… I'm talking about marriage. Cullen, can I be honest with you?"

"You've never felt the need to ask my permission before."

"Funny." She closed the space between them and put a hand on his arm. "You don't let people in. You remember that time Rogir Fickly from the farm across the way bullied you? And we all knew something was wrong. You came home with a black eye for Andraste's sake. But you wouldn't tell us and you wouldn't let us help? And you needed to deal with him yourself?"

"I don't see what the…"

"My point is that marriage isn't like that. You can't shut her out the way you shut out everyone else. You have to let her in. And let me tell you, it's not easy. Many a time it feels like having a stone in your shoe. It rubs at all the raw parts parts of you. Things were the same in our first months together too."

"Really?" That surprised him. Mia had always been both warm and direct, the things that he struggled to be. The things that he thought a good marriage required.

"Oh, yes. It takes an adjustment period to get used to having someone so close, to negotiate how your two separate lives become one. And if the stories about Solana are true, as you say, then she's as fiercely independent as you are, dear brother."

"That's true," he admitted freely.

"And you've been living in your own head so long you don't know the first thing about closeness."

"That is not true. We're close."

"Are you?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think I should be disclosing that -"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not talking about what you get up to in the bed chamber. I'm talking about sitting down with her and telling her you're unhappy."

"I'm not unhappy."

"You seem unhappy to me."

"I'm fine. I'm married to the Hero of Ferelden. I have a command I could only have dreamed of as a boy. I have the opportunity to make a difference, daily, to the lives of hundreds of people. I'm happy, Mia."

"If you say so."

"Don't do that. You always do that."

She smirked.

"And if I was unhappy it would be my own doing. I refuse to give the Inquisition less than my best. We're at war."

"Don't explain it to me," she held up her hand defensively.

"It's the timing that's all wrong," he continued, regardless. "I should be looking after her, seeing to her needs. But the lives of so many people are in my hands. I can't neglect my duties."

"I understand," Mia said.

"I'm going to have to leave her," he blurted.

Mia's eyes grew large. "What? Don't you think that's a little…"

He covered his face with his hand. "We're marching in a couple of weeks. I don't know when I'll be back."

"I see."

"For all I know, we could be fighting for months."

"Have you told her?"

"Not explicitly, no. But she's aware."

He paced the room again.

"I'm frightened, Mia." He couldn't imagine admitting that to anyone else. "It's not just her condition. It's… she makes me… vulnerable. I don't know how else to say it. When I've gone into battle before… I've never had someone waiting for me. I don't want what I feel for her, for our child, to compromise my ability to lead. Sometimes I have to make tough calls, I have to take risks. How can I do that knowing she's here? Knowing what it will do to her if anything happens… she lost her first love to war. I can't put her through that again."

He drew a deep breath. His words hung in the room and he was immediately ashamed of them. His sister touched his shoulder, but she didn't say anything.

"There's more. A… person from my past arrived here this morning. I don't trust him. He won't be coming to battle because our enemy might be able to turn him against us." All of the Wardens were staying this time. It had already been decided. After what Hawke said Corypheus could do to them…

"He'll be here, with her," he told his sister.

"We could take her back to South Reach?" Mia offered a small smile.

"You can ask, but she would never agree to it. She wants to be where she can make a difference."

"How about we knock her out and kidnap her?" Mia suggested. Cullen glared at her. "You should tell her these fears," she said seriously.

He nodded. Arguing with Mia was pointless. But he knew he wouldn't. Solana had enough to worry about without him making his fears hers. Rather he not put into her head the idea that he might not return, or that Anders might lose control again.

* * *

Hawke closed the door behind him and let out a breath. All in all that had gone better than he could have hoped.

For one thing, the man he loved was still breathing and had not been cleaved in half by the overprotective Commander. For another, Justice hadn't chosen to make an appearance.

Anders stood outlined by the narrow window of Hawke's small quarters. He was staring out at the Frostbacks, but when he heard the door click shut he turned. The cocky confidence of the last hour was gone. Now he looked at Hawke with large eyes, fretful as a pup caught peeing on a rug.

"So why are you really here?" Hawke asked, trying to keep all emotion from his voice.

Anders had shown up at his quarters before sunrise. How he'd gotten into the fortress, Hawke was hesitant to ask. Anders' face had been nervous and hopeful as he'd announced "surprise" through the crack in the door. Hawke had taken him straight to the Inquisitor. Probably not the greeting he'd been hoping for.

Now those large honey-coloured eyes met Hawke's. "I missed you."

Hawke's breath caught. It took everything in him not to cross the room and simply take the man in his arms again. How many of these cold nights had they ached for him? He restrained himself.

"These are good people, Anders. I don't want anyone getting hurt."

Anders wrapped his arms around himself and pouted. "I have no intention of hurting anyone."

" _You_ don't, but what about our friend?"

"From your letters, I was under the impression that the Inquisition stood _for_ justice. It's taken in the mages, hasn't it?"

Hawke sighed and sank down onto the bed. An uneasy silence fell between them, the kind that had become all too common in the past four years.

"Did you really mean it?" Anders asked at length. At Hawke's questioning look, he elaborated. "Did you mean what you said to the council, that if they threw me out you'd go too?"

"Of course I did."

Anders' lips fell open as his brows drew together. It was a familiar look. Hawke's love had always confused him. "I wasn't sure you still…"

Hawke waited, but Anders didn't finish the sentence.

"You should have told me you were coming," Hawke said when he was certain Anders wasn't going to say more. "I could have smoothed the way for you."

Anders finally sat beside him. "You would have told me not to."

"That too."

"And if you explicitly told me not to, I couldn't go against that."

Hawke flopped backwards onto the bed. "You make me sound like I'm your handler."

Some days it did feel like that. He wondered if Anders had always shown poor judgement or if that could also be attributed to his possession.

Anders lay down beside him, curled on his side facing Hawke. "You'd rather I wasn't here."

"I didn't say that."

"I make things complicated for you. I'm sorry. I didn't think this through."

He never did. With another sigh, Hawke reached over to brush a stray hair from Anders's face. This resulted in a flicker of a smile. It also meant Hawke didn't have to answer, didn't have to verbally address why he wasn't happier to see his love.

Because the man he loved scared him.

He wished he could go back to the days before the chantry explosion, to the blind and innocent trust. He'd thought that he'd been protecting Anders, that he'd been coaching him through the emotions tearing him apart. When Anders had woken drenched in cold sweat, trembling with tears for those he'd lost to Templars and to the darkspawn, Hawke had held him and whispered against his ear and soothed him with kisses. When Anders had arrived at the mansion in the early hours, pacing the floor and pulling at his hair, Hawke had wrapped him in warmth and love and reassurances. He'd helped Anders free mages destined for Tranquility, he'd campaigned at the highest levels for mage rights, he'd even written to the White Spire reporting the harsh conditions those in the Kirkwall Circle were expected to live under. He'd thought that had been enough.

Right up until the moment that building had gone up, all those people had died, he'd thought he'd done enough.

Being with Anders had once filled his entire being with warmth. Somehow this man who'd dedicated his life to helping the unfortunate, who delivered babies and rescued innocents, who had experienced so much… somehow he loved Hawke. But now when Hawke looked into his eyes something cold always shuddered in his stomach.


	38. Chain Lightning

Cullen expected to find Solana training the mages, but Hawke was hosting the drills instead. Anders was leaning against the wall watching, so Cullen elected not to go ask where his wife was.

He checked their room, but she wasn't there. Nor was she in the kitchens. But then neither was Celeste. Perhaps she was pouring her heart out to the maleficar?

 _Don't call her that,_ Cullen corrected himself. _She's your wife's friend. She saved your life._

Still, it made him deeply uncomfortable that Solana might be sharing her frustrations about him with the woman.

The library was the next place he thought to look. He really should have been working, but Solana had slunk away as soon as they'd reached the guest wing with his family and now he'd finished giving Mia the grand tour, he wanted to make sure Solana was okay.

He found Celeste sitting with Fiona in one of the library alcoves, pouring over some old tomes.

"Have you seen Solana?"

She shook her head. "You can try the grove."

"Grove?"

"It's not far outside the gates. She goes there to be alone sometimes."

As he made his way along the narrow path, he wondered how he'd never heard of this place. The ground was snowy but here and there a bright flower pushed through. Evergreen trees nestled close to the side of the mountain. Through them, he could see the grey-purple of the Frostbacks. A gentle breeze stroked across the branches, rustling the leaves.

As the path opened up, he saw her. Just as Celeste had predicted. She was sitting on a rock, in a pool of sunlight, hunched over, facing away from him. Green groundcover carpeted a patch beneath her feet. She'd pulled her hair loose and the breeze caught and teased at it. He paused. Celeste had said she came up here to be alone. Perhaps she had come here specifically to escape him? Perhaps he should leave her be?

Then he realised her shoulders were shaking in a way that could only indicate sobbing. She was _crying_.

All rational thought left him. "Solana?"

She jolted at his voice, head snapping to look at him. Her eyes were red, her face flushed. Her nose was bright pink. She must have been crying for ages, since she'd left them.

He'd done this. She was the strongest person he knew and he'd brought her to this.

"Forgive me," he whispered. And he meant for more than just the intrusion.

She stared at him. "I… I didn't want you to see me like this."

His throat felt tight, his chest hollow. "How long have you been… do you come here often?"

Why wouldn't his words work? Why was he paralysed by her display of emotion? He meant to ask her if, when she came here to be alone, that meant that she came here to cry away from his eyes, so that he might not know how deeply unhappy she was.

"Often?" Her brow furrowed.

He was frozen in place, the enormity of her obvious sorrow hanging between them.

"Are you… like this… often?" He choked out.

Her only response was to hide her face in her hands.

He forced himself forward. Rather not speak. Rather remain silent if he couldn't say anything sensible. He knelt before her, waiting for her to look at him.

"I'm so sorry," he said eventually, not knowing what else to say.

"Why are _you_ sorry?" came her muffled reply. "I…" One green eye appeared through a gap in her fingers. The colour was all the brighter for her flushed skin. "Anders and and your family." She was still crying.

His chest ached at the sound. "I'm your husband, Solana. You shouldn't feel you have to come out into the woods to express how you feel. I should be there for you. I promised that. I…"

A fresh round of sobs overtook her. He swallowed. He was evidently only making things worse.

"I'll try to do better," he promised.

"Cullen, please stop." Her voice was little more than a whimper. "Not everything's your fault."

But this was. It wasn't just his harsh words over Anders. There were so many other things… the constant arguments, the lack of time together, the way he'd broken the news about the pregnancy to his family.

"This isn't you," he said. "This isn't you before you were with me."

She lifted her head. "This is exactly what I was trying to avoid by coming here. I knew you'd blame yourself."

"I'm supposed to be looking after you," he argued. "I don't even _eat_ with you."

"Looking after me? I don't need looking after. I've never needed looking after."

"That's not what I meant." He tried to push down his frustration. Having another argument would hardly help matters.

She took a breath so deep it moved her shoulders. "I, of all people, understand the demands placed on you, Cullen." She hugged herself and sniffed. "I don't know what's wrong with me, but I know it's not you."

They sat in silence. It was too tense for him to feel relieved. He didn't know what to say or do. A thousand possibilities raced through his mind and he dismissed each one. He was at the point of offering to leave her alone when she spoke again.

"I'm not used to feeling this way."

He waited for her to elaborate. What did 'this way' mean?

"When I was told that I had to stop the Blight with only Alistair, Morrigan and the Warden treaties… something changed in me. I started to become hard. I needed to be. And then when Alistair... after he..."

Cullen could see she was struggling to say the words even now. She forced them out. "After he made that ultimate sacrifice, I felt numb. It was like the shock of it made me Tranquil. The things I used to enjoy, the things that would have made me angry. I didn't feel any of it. It was like... like my entire world was at the centre of a Winter's Grasp spell."

He knew the spell. It was one of the Chantry-approved ones they taught in the Circle. You paralysed your enemy by encasing them in ice. Solana swallowed. Her gaze was focused on her knees.

"It was so bad that I couldn't even care for my dog. That animal loved me." She sniffed and then swore, brushing away fresh tears. "I took him to the kennels. They... they needed to breed more mabari. But I didn't even visit him. I just left."

He placed a hand on her leg, hoping it would reassure her. He was at a loss how else to react.

"The point is... this now... this is the exact opposite. I grew used to being frozen, to being Winter's Grasp. But now I'm Chain Lighting. These emotions tear through me, and they strike out at everyone who gets close. Especially you. And I can't… I can't stop. I don't want to be this. I don't want to be this… this… vulnerable. There's no hard shell of ice anymore. There's only me. I'm not the Hero or… or… the Grey Warden… I'm… I don't even know what I am."

He waited while she breathed heavily. He could see she was still searching for words. "And I end up hurting you or… disappointing you. Because I don't know how to be anything else. I don't know how to make choices for me, for us."

Like Anders, or training the mages, or the phylacteries. She'd looked at all of those choices as if she was still the Hero.

"I can't even remember what I am underneath it all," she whispered. "And it terrifies me. What if what I am at my core isn't who you thought?"

"That's not possible."

"But Anders…"

He closed his eyes. He couldn't lie to her. He couldn't say that he wasn't still smarting about that. "I wish you hadn't supported him, after everything I've told you about Kirkwall. And yes, it hurt that you took his word over my warnings. But that's hardly a reason for me to stop caring about you."

"It's not just Anders. We keep disagreeing."

It was his own fears echoed back at him. "I have it on good authority that that's what marriage entails." He tried to give her a reassuring smile but from the way her gaze dropped he could tell it wasn't particularly effective.

With a sigh, he took her hands in his own. "It was inevitable. We are two very different people and…" what was it Mia had said? "We are both fiercely independent. But I love you. And I know who you are at your core."

Her eyes darted up to meet his. "How can you?"

"I knew you before all the titles, remember? I was infatuated with you."

She swallowed again. "You can't possibly know if I'm still the same…"

"I _know_ ," he said, with certainty. "I hardly would have married you if I hadn't discovered who you are now."

"Wouldn't you?" she asked, hands moving to her stomach.

"No," he said slowly, hoping it was the right answer. No, of course it wasn't the right answer. "I mean I would have, if you'd asked me to. I wouldn't have abandoned you and the child. But if I hadn't loved you as I do, I certainly wouldn't have made the vows that I did. And I meant what I said that day in the Chantry, every part of it. I've never believed in destiny. The life that I built for myself was a testament to self-determination. But this past year… perhaps it's all Cassandra's talk of Max being some chosen one." He offered her another smile, this one marginally more successful. "I don't find it so difficult to believe in providence anymore."

"You think we were fated to be together?" she asked with a small, hesitant, return smile.

"One thing I can say with certainty. If everything I had to go through… Kinloch, Kirkwall… if the hurt and nightmares and withdrawal was all leading to this, it was worth it."

Her eyes were shining again and he didn't know what to do, what more to say to comfort her. Then she gave a giant sob and fell forward, head landing in the fur draped over his shoulder. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her.

"Did I say something wrong?" He asked after the worst of her sobs had passed. "Please forgive me if I-"

"No," her muffled voice came from somewhere in his surcoat. "No. I love you."

"I love you too," he said. He held her to him, gently stroking her back, confused but reassured.

He would make more of an effort to show her how much he cared for her, how special she was, he swore to himself. Mia was wrong. His own concerns were unimportant, they could wait.

* * *

Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium sneered as he heard the door clang open. The Inquisitor had ordered him locked in the deepest darkest hole they could find, and instead they'd locked him on top of a cliff. There's irony for you.

There were only a few usable cells in this section. The rest had fallen down into the valley some time ago. It was open to the elements and chill winds would sweep directly into his cell. That he hadn't caught some illness and perished was a wonder. Curse his superior Tevinter blood.

The woman who came through the door was unfamiliar. She was carrying a bowl of gruel.

"You're prettier than the knife-ear who usually brings my slop," he told her. "Did they finally get rid of him? He was so dreadfully dreary, I wouldn't be surprised."

She shook her head. "I came to ask you some questions."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're not my usual interrogator either."

She gave him a pretty smile.

"I'm afraid I must decline," he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. "I serve a new god. When he rises to power, he will release me, and I doubt he will take kindly to my helping your Inquisition."

"My questions don't have anything to do with the Inquisition. And I am no enemy to your master."

That caught his attention. "Don't try tell me you're one of his. You're not red enough. Or Tevinter enough."

"Think of me as a neutral party."

"And why should I answer your questions, Neutral Party?"

"Because I can offer you something your usual interrogator can't."

He snorted. He half expected her to try offering him her body. What was she going to do through the bars of his cage anyway? Instead, she produced a small vial from a pocket. She held it between the thumb and forefinger of the hand that wasn't holding his meal.

"And what, may I ask, is that?"

"Death," she said.

His heart started pounding. "Freedom from the physical," he murmured.

"I have it on good authority that glory awaits you?"

Was she making light? It was possible she'd heard what he'd said during his trial. No matter. Her words were no less true.

"Ask your questions."

"I want you to tell me everything you know about the Blight."

He chuckled. "Is that all?"

She toyed with the vial. "I happen to know a great deal about it myself. To earn your reward, you have to tell me something I don't know."

"Where would you like me to start?"

"Start with the Warden taint."

* * *

A/N It seems I'm far too impatient to stick to posting only twice a week ^_^


	39. Heroic aura

Solana pulled the brush through her hair one more time and watched as it frizzed back into its unruly waves. She didn't usually pay much mind to the state of it. But tonight was different. Tonight she was completely aware of every split end, every kink and, yes, the frizz. That orange fuzz that clung around each tendril and curl. Washing it had been the mistake. It did this when it was clean.

She sighed and twisted it up into a knot again.

Now her face looked chubby and severe. She looked like an unpleasant governess.

She pulled the pin out, frowning as the hair tumbled down to her shoulders in a big red mane again.

A gentle rap sounded on the door behind her. When she didn't immediately respond, the door opened a crack.

"Are you ready, lov-"

She watched in the mirror as Cullen's head poked around the door, as he took in the state of the room.

"I'm not ready, no," she responded, dropping her head into her hands.

She heard him come in, shutting the door carefully behind him.

"What's the matter?" he asked, as if he couldn't see.

She stopped the sharp retort before it hit her tongue, opting instead for, "I want to make a good impression tonight."

They were dining with the Rutherfords. Max had arranged a dinner in the guest wing. He was keen to meet his commander's family, and after the awkward introduction that morning, Solana was determined to look and act her best. But she'd already failed at the first. Every single robe she owned was strewed across the bed. She'd even put on makeup. And then abruptly washed it off, realising she had no idea how to apply it in an attractive manner.

"You will," Cullen assured her.

"I can't even decide which robes to wear."

"How about those green ones? The ones that match your eyes?"

It surprised her that he had a preference. He'd never appeared to take much notice of what she wore.

"They don't fit me anymore."

He chuckled, obviously unaware of how self conscious she felt. "Alright. Those loose blue ones you wore the other day?"

"They're torn."

Most of her clothing was stained or torn.

"I didn't notice. Neither will my siblings." He began sorting through the clothes on the bed and she watched the reflection of him as he uncovered the outfit he meant.

"And my hair's a mess."

He brought her the robes. "I don't think so."

"You're not a woman."

He positioned himself behind her, gathering her flaming tresses in his free hand. "I'd offer to braid it, but I'm afraid that skill was always lost on me."

The image of her tough commander braiding hair made her smile despite her mood. He bent down and planted a kiss at the place where her neck met her shoulder. Heat surged through her at the touch of his lips, the intensity of it taking her by surprise.

His eyes met hers in the mirror. "You look lovely. You always do."

"To you. You thought I looked lovely when I was sleeping in a barn and walking around with hay in my hair."

He'd told her as much one of the nights when they'd been lying close, talking over the events of the past months. Now he smiled at her. "My siblings are not nearly as discerning as you might imagine. The stories I could tell."

"I really want them to like me."

"They _will_ ," he insisted, again.

"I've never had a family. I don't even know how to act."

"Act like you normally do."

"What do families talk about?"

He ducked his head to kiss her neck again, and she thought maybe he was suppressing a laugh. "Solana, you're overthinking this." The brush of his lips as he murmured against her skin sent a shock of desire to her core.

It must have been weeks since they'd had time for this kind of affection and she hadn't realised quite how much she'd missed it. She turned in her chair, all at once aware that she was wearing only a slip while he was fully clothed.

His fingers brushed her cheek. "They'd love to hear your stories."

"Most of my stories aren't suitable for dinnertime conversation," she said, trying to keep her mind on track despite his closeness.

"There's one about you escaping Loghain's clutches? You were telling it that night in the Frostbacks."

 _That_ night.

Her eyes were locked on his jagged smile. They both knew which night he meant.

"I'm afraid I missed most of it," he said softly. "I'd love to hear it again."

"Missed most of it?" she queried, throat inexplicably dry.

"I'm ashamed to admit, I was too busy thinking about kissing you to pay much attention."

"Kissing me?" she repeated. She didn't wait for his confirmation, tilting her head up to catch his lips. His arms locked around her as he deepened the kiss. His mouth was hot and hungry. And she needed him. After all the raw emotions of the past hours, she needed his attentions more than she could ever recall needing them before.

He pulled away, breathless, resting his forehead against hers with a groan. "We'll return to this after dinner, I think."

"You have work."

"It will wait another hour."

"Cullen…" His name was little more than a sigh. They hadn't been together, in that way, since her stomach had grown this large. She wasn't even sure it would be possible, despite the way her entire body was aching for it.

He pressed the blue robes into her hands. They were of a light flowing fabric. She didn't mention she'd tried them on earlier and thought they made her look like an Orlesian marquee.

* * *

"So, have you chosen a name yet?" Mia reached for a bread roll, her sharp brown eyes rising to meet Solana's.

There were ten of them in total seated at a table meant for eight in the splendid guest wing hall. The hall formed the base of a tower. Somewhere, far above, Solana knew Max had his quarters. A staircase zig-zagged up the wall with doors letting off at each landing. The rest of the wall was draped in tapestries and rich cloth. She'd been alarmed to see one tapestry depicted two Grey Wardens fighting a dragon. The one was blonde-haired, brandishing a sword. The other had red hair streaming behind her. It didn't take much imagination to figure out which battle the tapestry depicted.

The Rutherfords were pressed close enough that their elbows could touch. Solana imagined Josephine having a fit over the fact and probably threatening to order a new table from Orlais.

They didn't seem to mind. Max sat at the head of the table, with Cassandra beside him. For once, she wasn't wearing armour. She hadn't gone so far as to don a dress, but her deep blue tunic was more feminine than anything Solana had seen her wear before. Cullen and Solana were seated at the centre of the table.

Solana had been concerned about awkward silence, but she was yet to get a word in. Cullen's siblings had taken turns interrogating him at first, until Max had laughingly made them stop so that Cullen could actually eat. Then Mia had turned her attention to Solana.

Solana swallowed her mouthful. "Cullen likes the name Havard for a boy."

Rosalie started laughing and Mia gave her brother an appraising look.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"Of course you'd give your child a name from the Chant," Rosalie said

"What's wrong with that? And it's not just any name from the Chant. Havard was Andraste's first disciple. He's the one who carried her ashes across -"

"We know who he is, Cullen."

"I think it's a fine name," Cassandra said.

"I actually met him," Solana said. She'd meant the comment to be offhand but all eyes were instantly on her. She cleared her throat self-consciously. "Well, his ghost. When we discovered the Temple of Sacred Ashes we had to answer riddles posed by the disciples."

"You never told me that before," Cullen said. His voice was low and she wasn't sure whether he was amazed or annoyed.

"Oh I, well I assumed the story was well-known." But maybe they didn't repeat it because it sounded insane. She'd have to ask Leliana what the official version was.

"So, what was he like?" Mia prompted.

"Who, Havard? I don't know. He seemed nice? He was bald."

"Bald!" Cassandra exclaimed. "But he was Avaar."

"Avaar do go bald I imagine," Max said to her, and it was clear he was suppressing a laugh at her dismay.

"I don't know, I always pictured him as… wild. Wearing goat fur, with long blond hair."

"You have quite a clear picture of him," Max teased.

Cassandra's brow furrowed as if she wasn't quite sure what he was getting at. Then she seemed to realise and a flush crept up from her neck. She _tsked_ and gave his arm a light slap.

"I'm afraid he wasn't wearing skins either," Solana provided. "He was wearing robes. Chantry I think. Well, early Chantry. Recognisable though. They had the sunburst insignia. Like on your armour."

Cassandra's eyes grew large, her embarrassment forgotten. "That is incredible."

"Who else did you meet?" Max asked, resting his chin in his hand.

She tried to recall. "Well, the obvious candidates of course. Hessarian was interesting. _He_ had long blond hair. Oh, and the elf, Shartan. He looked a bit like Solas, come to think of it."

"So he _did_ exist?" Cassandra exclaimed.

Solana told them all the rest she could remember of the Gauntlet, including the amusing incident where they'd had to strip off all of their armour to be allowed into the final chamber and how she'd had to coerce Alistair into agreement. A few times she grew self-conscious when she realised she held the table's complete attention. She found herself automatically looking to Cullen, and he'd always smile encouragingly.

They continued to stare at her even after she finished the story.

"I believe you've stunned them," Cullen said. "I've never heard my siblings so quiet."

* * *

"That went well, I thought," Cullen said as they strolled across the ramparts, back to their quarters.

"Do you think they believed me? I'm not sure what the official version that Leliana's been telling is an-"

She was cut off as he spun her into a kiss. His lips were warm and tasted like wine.

"I'm sorry," he said as he pulled away. He hovered close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath. "I've been waiting to do that all evening."

She laughed, snaking a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into another, deeper, kiss. His warmth was a welcome counterpoint to the cold night. One of his hands travelled down her spine, leaving a trail of heat, while the other tangled in her hair. It was so easy to get lost in him, in his scent and touch, to forget about all the arguments, about the upcoming campaign that could see him gone for weeks.

"Commander Cullen, Ser!"

Cullen broke away from her with a low growl. A recruit was hurrying towards him along the otherwise deserted ramparts.

"Sorry it interrupt, Ser. It's urgent."

"It had better be," Solana heard him mutter. "Report," he said louder, turning to face the man.

"It's the prisoner, the magister. He's dead, Ser."

* * *

Cullen's expression was thunder as he paced across the icy gaol. He hadn't said anything in a few minutes. Solana stood huddled in his surcoat, pressed against the wall beneath one of the few lamps.

The door clanged open. Hawke came in first. "Whatever you think he's done, it wasn't him. He's been with me all day."

Anders was behind him, looking around at the cells with obvious apprehension.

Cullen turned on him. "So you're telling me that it's just a coincidence that the same day he arrives, we have a murder?"

"A murder?" Anders asked. "Who's been killed?"

Cullen narrowed his eyes at him.

Hawke spotted Solana. "What's going on?"

Of course he'd try to appeal to her. Her husband was being completely unreasonable. But she bit her tongue, reluctant to step between them again.

Hurried footsteps filled the tense silence and then Max was pushing his way into the room. "Cullen, report."

Cullen turned smartly, his face at once becoming a mask of calm. "Livius Erimond has been found dead in his cell. I took the liberty of asking Anders to come down for questioning. We can hold him now if you like."

With one sweep of his eyes, Max took in the scene.

Hawke stepped forward. "With all due respect, I've been with Anders all day. I can vouch that he had nothing to do with this."

"Very well, you can go." Max said.

Hawke thanked him, then took Anders by the arm and lead him out before Cullen could react.

Solana saw his jaw working. "Your worship…" he said through grit teeth.

"There's no need for that, Cullen. We were having dinner together not half an hour ago. Max is fine."

"I would recommend we hold Anders, at least overnight."

"And I disagree. Even if he did have ulterior motives as you clearly believe he does, it would be a special kind of stupid to attempt something like this on his very first day. Hawke says he's been with him and I trust Hawke."

"Perhaps you shouldn't," Cullen said.

Max blinked at him.

"Perhaps you shouldn't be so trusting, in general. When was the last time you turned down an offer of assistance?"

Max continued to stare at him.

Cullen seemed to realise how inappropriately he was behaving and he turned from Max, covering his eyes with a hand. "Forgive me, it seems the wine's gone to my head."

"It's all right," Max said slowly. "Go get some rest. We can look into this further in the morning."

"I need to finish that write up on-"

"Rest," Max repeated. "That's an order."

"Yes, Ser."

Cullen kept his head bowed until Max had left the room. Solana approached him cautiously.

"How can I leave you here?" he asked. His voice was quiet, but it echoed in the empty section of the gaol, filling the space. "It was bad enough when Skyhold was safe. Now…"

"Skyhold's still safe," she said, touching his arm. He glanced up at her. "And don't forget, I'm the He-"

"I know," he cut her off. "I know it only upsets you when I worry. But I _do_ worry. If it was just me going… but Leliana, Max, Hawke, Cassandra... we'll all be there. And I don't know how long we'll be there for."

He placed a hand on her belly. It was something he'd done often at first. He hadn't done it in a while. There was another unspoken thing. Their estimates said that he'd be back in time. But the idea that he might not be, that he could possibly not return at all, terrified her more than she wanted to let on.

"I'm not sure about Havard," she said to break the silence.

He sighed. "I know. Now all I can see is a balding man in Chantry robes."

* * *

Anders was quiet as they approached Hawke's quarters. The corridor was long and thin and light from overhead sconces flickered across the stone walls. There was no sound but the swishing of robes.

Then Hawke snatched Anders by the wrist and whirled him around, slamming him against the wall. Anders gave a surprised gasp. His eyes went wide in fright. But he chuckled. He thought Hawke was playing. He thought this was a game, some new seduction.

"What do you know?" Hawke growled.

The question rang in the empty space. All trace of humour bled from Anders's face. "Hawke…"

"Anders."

"I've been _with you_. You _know_ I had nothing to do with this." His eyebrows drew together and he gazed up at Hawke like an injured puppy dog.

That look. Ah, that look. It had said many things in their time together. "Please rescue my friend from the Templars", "Only you can lead the mages to freedom", "Save _me_ ", "I _love_ you". Now it pled innocence. And Hawke wanted to believe it. But he hadn't survived all he had by ignoring his gut.

"It is convenient, you have to admit, the _timing_. I've been here for months and guess what? No murders. Not a one. And yet the very day that you arrive, someone dies."

"Do you really think that of me?" The little frown, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. A pout that turned Hawke's insides to liquid. Anders knew how to use it to masterful effect. It took everything not to back down, give in and kiss that lip.

Instead, Hawke let out a breath. "Tell me why you're really here."

"You _know_ why I'm here. Why in the Void would I wish him dead?"

"If it was Justice, then just tell me."

Anders laughed at that. "How could it be Justice? In case you haven't noticed, Justice-"

"Don't do this."

"Don't do what? What do you want me to say, Hawke? I didn't even know the man. Justice and I share a body. And this body was not anywhere near the scene of this crime. This body was, in fact, under yours. Or on top of yours. Cullen didn't give us a time of death, did he?"

Hawke felt a scowl twisting his lip. He let go of Anders and stepped back with a huff. "Why are you making light of this?"

"I'm not. I don't mean to. It's just, have you heard how insane you sound?" Anders folded his arms across his chest. "Look, I understand why you don't trust me. But it's been four years. I'm not out for blood. I'm not a murderer."

"You are."

Anders jolted at the words and Hawke immediately regretted them, but he didn't take them back.

"Well, if that's what you think then I'm not really sure what I'm doing here after all."

"It's not what I _think_. It's the truth. We're both murderers." The words tasted bitter, but they were no less honest.

Anders snorted, his gaze dodging Hawke's. "Perhaps I should go."

"Where would you go?"

"I don't know. Elsewhere. Somewhere where you don't have to worry about me."

"Stop it."

"I'm sure it would be a relief -"

"I said stop it!" Hawke wasn't in the mood for his self-pity. "It's not going to work. You're not going to manipulate me into -"

"I"m not trying to manipulate you!"

"Oh really?" Hawke gestured wildly. "With the eyes, the lips, that little dejected tilt of your chin? _No one wants me. No one understands me. No one could possibly love me._ I've seen it all before. I've seen it _so many_ times I've lost count. And you know what? Shine's worn off. It doesn't work anymore. I'm not looking for a pet, Anders. I'm not looking for a cause."

Anders straightened. If anything his eyes were wider than before. But when he spoke his voice was cool. "Of course you are, you're always looking for a cause."

"What?"

"Never could resist a chance to be a hero, and how convenient for you that this time I couldn't follow."

"That's not what happened."

"You know, if you wanted to leave me you should have just said. None of this 'I can't wait until I'm in your arms again' bollocks. Because -"

"Maker, Anders!"

His voice rang along the corridor and he snapped his mouth shut, suddenly aware of how much attention their spat could be drawing. It was one thing for him to be suspicious, quite another if half of Skyhold heard them. He drew air through his nose, trying to calm his racing heart. Anders folded his arms again, leaned against the wall and pouted.

"I didn't come here to make your life difficult," Anders said softly. "That's the very last thing I'd want."

That was honesty, finally. Hawke was moved to stillness by it. Anders glanced at him furtively from beneath his long lashes.

"I know it might be too much to ask given what I've done with your trust in the past, but I wish you could trust me."

"It is too much to ask," Hawke said before he could stop himself. Anders had been honest then, too. Face painted pink by the burning Chantry.

Now he shook his head. "What are we doing, Hawke?"

It was Hawke's turn to deflect. "Standing arguing in a corridor."

And Anders's turn to scowl. He shook his head again, as if rethinking his attempt to be open. Hawke knew what he meant anyway. He was asking what business they had being in a relationship if Hawke couldn't trust him. And Hawke couldn't answer, even if he had a mind to.

He sighed heavily. "I didn't come here to get away from you. If I had chosen to run away, I certainly wouldn't have come this far south. I hear there're plenty of job openings for mages in Tevinter."

The corner of Anders's mouth flicked upwards, but there was no real humour in the expression.

Fine. Serious. He could do serious.

"Look, I… I _want_ to trust you."

"But you never will." The words were without emotion. Anders hugged himself tightly, running his hands up and down his arms as if he was cold. And he still wasn't looking at Hawke. "Perhaps it's foolish for us to go on like this, like we're _together_."

"We _are_ together."

"You know what I mean."

He did. Together yet apart. Like there was a Barrier spell between them, even when they were naked and curled up in one another.

Hawke pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe Anders was right. Maybe _he_ was the problem. It had been years, the circumstances had been exceptional. Anders had been ready to die for his betrayal then, had been on the run ever since. Perhaps Hawke's instincts were wrong this time and Anders was innocent and was simply here because he was insecure about their relationship. And who could blame him, really? Because Hawke _had_ run away. At least in part. Not from Anders but from the life he represented: a life on the run, a life of unspoken things, and unspeakable tragedy. He had run from the _responsibility_ of Anders.

He swallowed, the weight of his guilt pressing down on his chest. "Let's just… let's just go to bed. It's been a long day."

He turned without waiting for an answer. None came, only the swish of robes gave any indication that Anders followed.


	40. Unshakable

Dim morning sunlight streaked through cobwebs. Solana had never been in this part of Skyhold before. Set below the main hall, it was dusty and dank, unfit for living quarters and mostly used for storage. She'd heard that it was a popular shortcut for servants wishing to cut from one side of the castle to the other, but there was no one here now. It was eerily quiet. The guards posted at the entrance to the main corridor had been turning everyone away since the phylacteries had arrived.

Was Livius's murder related in some way?

Cullen had stood pacing at the end of their bed for what had felt like hours the night before, muttering about coincidences and how he didn't believe in them. Eventually she'd drifted off. When she'd woken a couple of hours later, he'd been gone.

She had no doubt that Max had found Cullen's latest report on his desk that morning, orders or no. And she'd put money on the likelihood that it had included an addendum on reasons not to trust Anders. Probably in the form of an itemised list.

She didn't believe Anders was behind this. What reason would he have to want Livius dead?

The most likely culprit _was_ a Grey Warden though, but someone who had been under the magister's thrall and had been forced to do terrible things. But if that was the case, why now? Why not when he'd first been brought in?

The timing was the most suspicious part. Cullen was right about that at least.

She reached the door to the phylactery room. Two of Leliana's people were waiting for her.

"Commander Cullen's given me permission to be here," she said. "I want to set up wards."

In truth, the wards should have been set up weeks ago. That's what she'd promised. But they hadn't seemed necessary until now. The phylacteries had been the first thing on her mind when she'd woken. Whether because of the murder, or because of Anders's arrival, she couldn't say.

The scouts nodded and, as one, turned and left. _Odd._ She would have expected them to simply move aside for her. She watched as they walked back the way she'd come, disappearing around a corner. Why were Leliana's people always so strange?

The pattern she needed to trace was so familiar that her very muscles seemed to know where to go. She'd traced it around their camp every night for a year. She'd traced it in rain, she'd traced it while exhausted, she'd traced it while trembling with fear and grief, she'd traced it while suffering headaches and flashforwards and the intolerable hunger that came part and parcel with her new Warden abilities.

Yet now she faltered.

She stared at her hands, surprised to find them shaking.

"You do not need your phylactery," she told herself. "What would you even do with it?"

 _Anything._ That was the answer. She could keep it or break it, or even give it to Cullen as a gift. It was true freedom. Without her phylactery, no one could force her into a Circle ever again.

She shook her head, started tracing the ward again.

"You liked the Circle," she reminded herself.

Yes. She'd liked the walls, the rules. They'd made her feel safe, if not loved. And she'd thought that if she was a good mage, if she did precisely as she was told and wasn't a bother to anyone, perhaps she'd live a good life. But she hadn't seen the outside then. She'd betrayed her best friend because she didn't know what she was missing, what he'd caught a glimpse of in Lilly.

There was no way she could go back.

"No one's going to put you in a Circle anyway," she said, through grit teeth. Because saying the words out loud made them feel more real. "You're a Warden. A Warden Commander... technically."

At least, she thought she was. Since Adamant, she'd sent numerous birds to Weisshaupt reporting on the status of the southern Wardens, but had yet to receive a response. She had to assume that meant headquarters was happy. Still, an acknowledgement that she'd maintained the rank of Warden Commander after she'd disappeared would have been nice.

And if she wasn't the Warden Commander… Fiona had been a Warden and she'd ended up back in the Circle.

How must that have been? Being in the Circle before seeing the outside world was one thing. Going back there after knowing freedom. It must have been unbearable.

Solana raked a hand through her hair. This was ridiculous. This whole train of thought was ridiculous. Cullen would never allow her to be put into a Circle if the Circles were reestablished.

But if something happened to him…

"You're being an irrational pregnant woman," Solana lectured herself.

Still, he was going to war. If something happened to him and she was left with the baby and a new regime that didn't look so kindly on mages and she had no proof that she was the Warden Commander…

With a wild swell of emotion, she threw the door to the phylactery room open.

Then she stood blinking at it, trying to accept that it had, in fact, opened. What in the Void were they doing leaving the door unlocked?

The room beyond was surprisingly well lit. A line of arrow slits marched across the one wall, letting in beams of watery light. _She'd need to ward those._

Dust flecks spun in the sun as she moved slowly over the threshold. Piled high around her were stacks of crates, and it was almost a relief because there was no way she'd be able to track down her phylactery in this. Yet, as she knelt beside the first arrow slit, ready to trace her ward, she noticed the corner of one of the crates had been marked. AA-AD.

She looked in the same place on the next crate. AD - AG. And the next… her heart started galloping in her chest. AG - AJ.

Alphabetical. They'd been stored alphabetically. Of course they had been. Cullen was as meticulous as the Chantry. He would have seen to it that they were stacked just right.

She rose to her feet, without even bothering to sweep the dust from her robes. Part of her wanted to run. Leave this room, leave the temptation. But a greater part of her drew her towards the next stack. AJ - AL. And, under it, AL - AN.

A wave of magic moved the AJ crate off the top. And then there it was, her crate. She cast around for something to prise it open and when she didn't see anything, decided magic would just have to do. All it took was willpower, a similar spell to the one she'd taught the Inquisition mages to help them close the Breach, and then it was open and she was staring down at row upon row of tiny glass vials, packed securely in cloth. Some of them pulsed gently. Those were the ones that belonged to mages nearby, she knew. She pulled out one at random. "Amner" was scrawled across a label.

Sweat prickled her brow. What would she tell Cullen? How could she explain to him the visceral fear of knowing that at any time whoever had this tiny glass capsule could find her? He couldn't understand.

The next vial said "Amesbury." And she knew, she just knew, that the one tucked in next to it had to be hers. It had to say Amell.

Except it didn't. "Ambrose."

Hurriedly she checked the other surrounding vials. "Alvey", "Alway", "Amott", "Ancane."

Where was it? If it wasn't here, what had they done to it? Another thought occurred to her, one that made her insides churn. What if it had already fallen into the wrong hands? What if it was merely a matter of time before whoever had it decided to use it for some foul purpose?

She had to tell Cullen. Which would mean confessing she went to get it.

"Looking for this?"

She spun, heart leaping to her throat.

Leliana had approached without making a sound. From her fingers dangled a small vial on a chain. At first Solana thought it her Warden pendant, the one containing the darkspawn blood from her Joining. But that vial was still around her neck, tucked safely beneath her robes.

This one was a little larger and the blood pulsed bright and dim like a rapid heartbeat.

"Is that my…"

"It is."

The spymaster closed the distance between them and handed the vial to Solana. It was warm, as if it had been pressed against skin. "I owe you an explanation."

"How long have you had it?" The pulsing stopped and the phylactery glowed now that Solana held it. Leliana retrieving it some time in the last weeks, while her people had been guarding the room, would have made sense, had it not been for the _chain_.

Leliana folded her arms and leaned casually against one of the stacks. "Since Cassandra started looking for her Inquisitor."

Silence hung thick as the dust beneath their feet while Solana waited for further explanation.

None came.

She examined Leliana's face, trying to work out what she was thinking. But Leliana was an expert in subterfuge. "I thought you were helping her look for me… you said you'd been trying to find me."

"And having seen what I do now, do you honestly believe you could hide from me if I was truly seeking you?"

Solana fingered the phylactery. "Evidently not."

Leliana pulled away from the stack with a sigh. "Cassandra was determined. You know what she's like. It was only a matter of time before she requested it and I knew the Chantry would give it to her. Connections are everything, after all. So I tracked it down first."

"Why?" Solana didn't know what to make of this confession. "I thought you _wanted_ me to be the Inquisitor?"

"I can think of no one better suited. And if you had wanted the position, I would have done everything within my power to ensure you had it. But…" She brushed her fingers along the top of a crate and she seemed almost wistful as she let the sentence trail. Solana waited and eventually Leliana turned to her.

"Tell me, what were you doing all those years?"

Solana narrowed her eyes, trying to guess what the spymaster was getting at. "I was doing what I said I would be."

"Travelling?"

"Yes."

"Yet you never left the south. In fact, you seldom left the Frostbacks."

Anger spiked in Solana's chest. "And you were following my movements, were you?" It was invasive, voyeuristic. "Of course you were. Lady Nightingale keeps her eyes on everything. What do you think I was doing? What did your _birds_ tell you?"

Leliana didn't react to her temper. If she was affected by it at all, there was no sign. Her gaze was steady.

"Hiding," she said. "Your movements showed me you were hiding. You didn't want to be the Hero, you didn't want to be the Commander of the Grey in Ferelden, and you certainly didn't want to be the Inquisitor."

Leliana was right, but Solana didn't want to give her the satisfaction of saying as much. "So, you stole my phylactery? To keep me hidden from everyone but you?"

Leliana nodded. Her eyes stayed locked on Solana's and something passed in her gaze that Solana didn't know how to interpret. "I led Cassandra to believe it was moved to the White Spire with the enchanter phylacteries and thus destroyed."

"You could have given it to me in Haven," Solana accused.

"Yes. And I should have."

Instead she'd been wearing it around her neck. "The chain. Why?"

Leliana's gaze finally dropped. The corner of her mouth twitched. "I can think of several people who'd be very interested in phylactery of the Hero of Ferelden. None of them as charming as Cassandra. You'd do well to wear it too. Or destroy it."

" _You_ could have destroyed it."

"Yes."

"But you didn't."

"No."

Solana opened her mouth to ask why, but Leliana cut her off.

"Don't." She glanced up, expression surprisingly plaintive. "Don't ask." And then she was moving away, back towards the heavy door. "It's yours now. Do with it what you will."

* * *

Solana found Hawke down in the lower courtyard waiting for the mages to arrive for the morning session. He was leaning against a wall frowning thoughtfully.

She'd finished warding the room with the phylacteries, but hers was tucked securely under her robes. She still hadn't decided what to do with it.

"Anders not joining us today?" she asked him by way of greeting.

Hawke smiled wanly.

"Oh dear, that's not a good look."

"No, it isn't."

"It's not… Cullen hasn't _done_ something has he?" Had he managed to have Anders arrested? Was that where he'd been earlier that morning?

Hawke chuckled. "No. Would that I _could_ blame the Commander." He gave a sigh, forced another smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I haven't had a chance to thank you yet. Voting in his favour with your husband right there. It was a brave thing to do."

"Seems like it was a foolish thing to do. You don't seem particularly happy."

He gave a shrug. "I'm smiling on the inside."

"Hawke…"

"I'm not nearly drunk enough for this conversation."

"Hawke."

He sighed and kicked up a wad of dirt. The two of them were still completely alone. The other mages wouldn't arrive for another few minutes yet, but he glanced around as if to make sure before returning his eyes to his feet. "You heard any of the stories they tell about us, cuz?"

"About you and Anders?"

"No, about me and Commander Cullen Rutherford. Yes, Anders."

She shook her head. "I've been out of general gossip circulation for a few years. Living in the mountains, a drunk, pregnant." She shrugged, offered him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "I'll bet they're epic?"

"Oh, they are." He toed the soil, frowning. "Generally they come in two flavours. The one, as you might expect, is that Anders is a powerful blood mage who lured the Champion into his bed and keeps me on as a helpless slave to his whims. The other, the more common, goes something like this: Roguish hero arrives in Kirkwall as a refugee from the Blight. He sees the injustice. He knows it firsthand. He is a mage. His dead sister was a mage. His father was a mage…his abducted cousin was a mage. And then one day he meets another mage. A brave Grey Warden who has given his life, his body, his very soul to rid the world of injustice. And something in this hero resonates with something in this mage. And they fall in love. A love so deep that no man nor magic can break it. But the mage has a secret. He's planning a revolution. He hides what he's doing from the hero. He knows his revolution will cost him his life, but he will not let it put the hero in danger. When the dark day comes, the day that he has to do what must be done to free his people, the mage falls on his knees before his love, offers him his staff and says, "Kill me." But their love is too strong. The hero takes the staff and instead stands shoulder-to-shoulder with the mage against the Templars, the city guard, abominations, all that would oppose them. Together they flee the city. They let it burn. They let the world burn. Because the hero could not abandon his love, no matter what he did."

Solana waited to be sure he'd finished before saying softly, "That's quite the story."

"It is, isn't it? I believe the next bit is supposed to be something like, 'and then they lived happily ever after.'"

The weight of the words was evident, all they implied.

"That's the thing no one tells you about the tales," Hawke said. "Neat little endings don't happen in real life. It's all messy sludge. It's fading feelings and nagging doubts and constant questioning and loud arguments in empty corridors." He drew a deep breath.

Solana swallowed down the lump that had formed in her throat. She touched his arm, trying to reassure him even as she struggled to think of something to say.

"I'm sorry," he added. "I shouldn't be such a cynic. Here you are in your new marriage with a baby on the way. And if anyone deserves the fabled happy ending, it's you."

She snorted. "Why, because I'm the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Because of all you sacrificed to get here." He forced a smile. "The scales have to balance at some stage, don't they?"

They'd never spoken about Alistair, but she supposed everyone knew. His implication made her uncomfortable. It had been Alistair's sacrifice. Why should she be due a reward?

His gaze travelled over her head. "Talking of which… look sharp, Rutherfords approaching."

She turned to see Cullen's family gathering in the upper courtyard, leaning over the low wall to watch the mages.

"That's a lot of Rutherfords," Hawke commented.

It wasn't really that many, but it seemed that way when they were all gathered together like that. "Tell me about it."

"Ah, it's not going well?"

"No, it's fine. They're nice. It's just… there are a lot of them."

Cullen appeared amongst the other blond heads and waved down at her. She gave him a small wave back.

"Well you _did_ want a family," Hawke said, and his eyes sparkled with a hint of genuine humour.

The mages were starting to arrive, filing into their usual lines for the morning drills. Solana dropped her voice. "I'm surprised that he wants them to see this, considering how much magic scares him."

"I'm not."

"Not surprised?"

"Nope. He's proud of you. He's showing you off."

She wished Hawke hadn't said that. Her stomach fluttered, and it had nothing to do with the baby. "Oh, Maker."

With her luck, this would be one of the sessions where a younger mage set himself on fire. Or someone hit someone else in the face with their staff by mistake. She swallowed and stepped forward, saying a silent prayer.

In the end, the training session didn't go too badly. It _had_ been a long time since anyone had combusted. The mages had become a veritable army, ready to march on the Arbor Wilds with the rest of the troops. Even Hawke's more exciting lessons were now no more than revision and refinement. ("Set out the area in your mind before casting. No meteors on friendlies," he reminded them.)

The Rutherfords applauded after the din of conjured rocks falling died down and Hawke took a theatrical bow. Cullen approached, shaking his head but smiling nonetheless.

Hawke twirled his staff like a baton. "Commander! Did your family enjoy the light show?"

"More than I might have liked." He glanced behind him, back to where the others were still standing in the upper bailey. Rosalie, who'd been staring at Hawke, coloured and darted behind her brother-in-law.

Hawke cringed. "Have you told her who I am?"

"Oh, she knows." Cullen seemed amused at Hawke's discomfort. Which was preferable to the antagonism the two usually shared.

"She knows who I am but not that I'm unavailable?"

"She _is_ from South Reach."

"Point taken."

Cullen turned his attention to Solana. He took her hands in his. "I have a favour to ask."

"You want me to explain to Rosalie that Hawke could never return her affections?"

Cullen laughed, ducking his chin, and she heard Hawke chuckle too.

"No. Nothing quite that daring. I have a lot of work to do, as you know. I don't want to keep my family cooped up here. I was hoping you might take them out, show them the surrounding mountains. Maybe have a picnic?"

She raised her eyebrows.

Hawke was the first to reply. "You're aware it's Harvestmere? Hardly the time of year to be setting down a blanket."

"Cullen… I…" Panic twisted her tongue. "I don't… what do I say to them?"

"There's nothing to be nervous about."

"You mean besides the wolves?" Hawke offered.

Cullen shot him a look and he stepped away, holding his hands up plaintively.

Solana watched her husband gather his words. His gaze darted down to their clasped hands. "To be perfectly honest, the request was Mia's. I wasn't going to say. She asked me not to."

Cullen had transformed almost instantly into the younger brother. It was clear who had been in charge when they'd been growing up.

"Why would she want me to take them on a picnic?"

"She'd like a chance to get to know you better."

"Cullen…"

"I already know what you're going to say. But you needn't concern yourself with whether she'll like you. She clearly already does, or she hardly would have suggested it."

Solana wasn't so sure. Some people could be crafty. For all she knew, Mia wanted to use this opportunity to test her and find out if she truly was worthy of her little brother. The way she'd been feeling lately, she wasn't sure she'd pass.

"Please," Cullen asked. "I know it would mean a lot to her. To them."

He so seldom asked anything of her, how could she deny him this?

"Alright." She sighed. "I'll go get my coat. I hope it still fits."


	41. Vitality

_Content warning: passing non-graphic mention of miscarriage (not Solana, don't panic!)_

* * *

The Rutherfords found a nice patch of ground not too far outside of Skyhold. It was surrounded by deep green firs, but not as closed off as the grove Solana usually frequented. It had an excellent view. They could see right down into the valley, to the Inquisition's vast army camped along the banks of the lake.

"Cullen commands all of that?" Branson asked.

Solana nodded, with a burst of pride. "He's trained many of them personally. He's very hands on."

Branson shook his head in obvious wonder. "I knew he was the Commander. I mean obviously I knew that. And I heard the Inquisition was a force to be reckoned with. But I suppose I never quite pictured it."

"You don't find it intimidating?" his wife asked Solana. She was standing beside her husband, her son bundled in her arms.

"She's the Hero of Ferelden, Maralie," Rosalie answered before Solana could say anything.

Solana laughed. "I am. But my army was never quite this large. Nor did I have your brother's talent for command."

She knew she'd lost more people in the Battle of Denerim than an experienced commander would have. But back then all that had mattered was surviving long enough to slay the archdemon. There was no point making comparisons. "Should we eat?"

They'd brought furs with them instead of blankets, thick enough that the snow wouldn't melt through. They laid them out beneath a tree, over a slush of needles and snow, and then passed around the food they'd been able to bring from Skyhold's stores.

"You get such a variety of food all the way out here. It's a marvel," Mia's husband remarked. He was a large man, with arms that signalled he did some sort of manual work. A blacksmith perhaps.

Their picnic consisted of fruit, cured meats and a few buns that Celeste had snuck them, meant for the evening meal.

"Everyone's keen to trade with the Inquisition now that we're winning," Solana responded.

"And are you winning?" he asked.

"Cullen seems to think so." Solana wasn't entirely comfortable discussing the subject. She wasn't sure if they knew about his upcoming campaign. She didn't want to worry them unnecessarily.

"Let's not talk of war," Mia said, reaching for an apple. "Solana, Cullen tells me you play chess?"

"I… yes." The woman still intimidated her.

"Excellent," Mia withdrew something from her pack. It was a travel-sized chess board, similar to Dorian's. In fact, it was exactly the same as Dorian's, right down to the DP carved on the lid. Had Cullen arranged this?

Rosalie started laughing. "Really, Mia? You're going to challenge her here? Now?"

There was something about Mia's look that was very Cullen. On Cullen's face it meant he was plotting something. "I don't want to miss the chance to tell everyone back home I beat the Hero of Ferelden at strategy."

Her husband groaned theatrically and moved away, taking a bun with him.

Branson, on the other hand, came in closer, kneeling on the furs beside Solana. "This should be good."

They were about half way through the game when Branson Junior toddled over to see what his father was doing and knocked over the board. As his father scooped him up and out of the way, his face screwed up tight and he wailed his displeasure loud enough that a flock of nearby birds took to the sky.

Once Branson had taken him away to distract him with some flowers, Mia started setting up the board again. "You have that to look forward to. I'm sure you're excited." She glanced up, a smile playing at her lips.

Solana shifted. Her back was starting to get a little sore. Mia must have misinterpreted the movement because her brow furrowed. "Sorry, I imagine you're nervous enough as it is. I… well, I know it was unintentional."

Embarrassment flushed through Solana. She didn't know how to act with Mia. They were sisters now, weren't they? But also complete strangers. She hugged her stomach. "I grew up in a Circle. I'm sure you know that. I imagine my entire history is public knowledge."

Mia chuckled. "Not your _entire_ history, no. But Cullen did tell me you were one of his charges." She moved a piece and Solana thought she might have been avoiding looking at her.

"Circle mages don't… well we're brought up believing that we will never have families. The Circle is supposed to be our family. There's a greater chance of magic in a line that's already shown it."

"Ah, and the Chantry wouldn't want that."

"No."

"Your move."

Solana wasn't sure what to make of Mia. Did she feel about the Chantry the way that Cullen did? She moved her piece. An uneasy silence fell between them.

"Grey Wardens don't have children either," she said to fill it. "It's not forbidden - that I know of. It's just unlikely." She wasn't supposed to mention the taint, so she instead said, "Living the lives they lead, it's not exactly a suitable environment for children."

"No, I imagine it isn't."

"So when I heard that I was… when I found out. It was something I hadn't even dared dream of before. A normal life with a husband and a child. It had always seemed so out of my reach. More out of reach than stopping the Blight or finding those ashes…" She trailed off, at once self-conscious. Mia was looking at her intently. "Sorry, I suppose what I'm trying to say is that yes, I am excited…. And yes, I am scared." She laughed, although it sounded false to her own ears. "I… I never had a mother. I'm not sure what kind of mother I'll be."

Mia's attention went back to the board, although she played with the piece in her hand rather than placing it down. "I must confess to being a bit envious." She glanced at her husband, who was now playing with his nephew, tossing him in the air and catching him to squeals of joy. "We've been trying for years."

"To conceive?"

"Well… I've been pregnant twice." Mia didn't look at her, her gaze stayed fixed on the piece. "Never as far along as you, though."

"Oh." Solana didn't know what to say. Her mouth felt dry. "I'm so sorry. This must be awful for you… we weren't even trying and…" She fell silent. She was probably making everything worse.

"Please, no, not at all. This is wonderful." Mia smiled. "Another niece or nephew to spoil. And it will be good for Cullen, he needs something to care about besides his work."

Solana was opening her mouth to respond when something jerked in her belly. It was like a small fish butting its nose against the surface of the water but it was so unexpected it sent a shock through her. She clutched her stomach, staring at the spot.

"Are you alright?" Mia was on her knees, ready to jump to Solana's aid.

"I…" It happened again. A flutter, like bird wings. "The baby just moved."

Mia climbed right over the board to sit beside her, placing a hand on Solana's stomach. The baby did not disappoint, shifting almost into her hand. Mia's face lit up and she laughed in delight. "That's amazing! The first time?"

Solana nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak. In that moment, everything felt real. Her baby, _Cullen's_ baby, not a mere concept but a person.

The others had seen their excitement and gathered around, first in concern and then in enthusiasm. But the baby didn't move again. It had clearly shifted into a more comfortable position and gone back to sleep.

* * *

Solana stared at the phylactery glowing softly against her palm.

It was evening now. Cullen would get back to their quarters any moment. She needed to tell him. Surely he wouldn't be angry if she explained what had happened?

But then she'd need to tell him that she went looking for it.

And what if he confronted Leliana? What did it mean that she'd kept it? Even she wasn't comfortable exploring that idea much further. She was frightened of what she might find.

"Solana!"

She jerked as she heard him at the door.

As it swung open she reflexively shoved the phylactery into the top drawer of her dresser and turned to greet him. _Later._

His face was flushed and he closed the distance between them in three strides. "I just saw Mia. She said the baby moved." His eyes were shining with boyish enthusiasm. She nodded.

He placed a warm hand on her stomach reverently. "What did it feel like?"

"It was… amazing." All thought of the phylactery left her. "It was like… like there was a little bird in my stomach, stretching its wings."

"Mia said she felt it."

"Your child's clearly as excited about chess as your sister."

He pulled away. "Maralie said that I should draw you a bath."

"A bath?" Solana wasn't sure whether she was more surprised by the suggestion or who it had come from. What in Thedas did a bath have to do with anything?

Cullen crossed the room and pulled the wash tub from the corner into the space in front of the fire.

"I'll go to the kitchens, ask if I can use the hot water. She said it shouldn't be cold."

"Cullen, what are you talking about?"

He looked up at her and blinked. "Sorry." He scratched the back of his neck. "I'm, uh, getting ahead of myself. Maralie said a bath was a good way of getting them to kick again. I… I'd like to feel it."

Solana fought back laughter. There was something uniquely endearing about Cullen when he felt embarrassed, but she knew her amusement would only serve to make him feel more ill at ease.

"Alright," she said. "If you're offering to carry all that water up here at this time of night, I'm not going to argue."

He seemed committed enough to the idea that it probably wouldn't have helped if she had. She lowered herself into the armchair. "Did she have any other advice?"

"Oils."

"Oils?"

Cullen cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on the tub. "She said she - they - used nice smelling oils to… I promise it didn't sound this, um, intimate when she said it. Apparently the baby was more likely to kick when she relaxed."

"Cullen…"

He glanced up at her but seemed unable to hold her gaze. "It's silly, I know."

"I was going to say you don't need to be embarrassed." She leaned back, folding her arms. "I mean this all sounds like a lot of hard work for me, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

He rewarded her with a low chuckle. "How generous of you."

"They don't call me the Hero for nothing."

* * *

Steam twisted up from the tub. It smelled like lilac and oranges - the two oils that Cullen had somehow scavenged from somewhere. Solana dared not ask where.

He'd removed his armour and rolled up his sleeves and was staring at the tub with the same determination that he might have shown a map of a battlefield.

"I think get into the tub first. The hot water might do it."

Strategy one, clearly.

She rose from the chair and slipped her robes from her shoulders. They pooled at her feet. Cullen glanced up, then swallowed.

She had meant to be seductive, but she felt at once self conscious and wrapped her arms around herself. She was a lot bigger than the last time he'd seen her naked.

But Cullen's eyes lingered on her. He cleared his throat again, then looked away. She heard him mutter, "Maker."

If this exercise was supposed to relax her, it wasn't working. Her heart skittered in her chest and her pulse roared in her ears. She focused on the tub.

Cullen rose to help her in. He held her hands tightly so she didn't lose her balance as she stepped into the warm water. It was the perfect temperature, just hot enough to make her skin sing. When last had she had a hot bath?

She knew exactly. Denerim. The night before the Landsmeet.

Since then, it had been washcloths and cold water. This was luxury. She moaned as she eased herself into the water, then immediately flushed with embarrassment. Cullen cleared his throat once again.

"Is this making you uncomfortable?" she asked him. She couldn't see his face, he was positioned behind her.

"No." His voice was higher-pitched than usual. There was a pause before he said, in a much lower timbre, "No, not at all."

The bath felt amazing, but the baby hadn't moved. Her stomach jutted out of the water, only half covered. Before she could say anything, Cullen reached around her holding a jug. Wordlessly, he scooped up the warm, scented water and poured it over her stomach.

She dropped her head back, lost in bliss.

"Good?" he asked, his mouth at her ear.

She groaned. He chuckled again and poured more water.

He was on the third or fourth jug when his lips brushed her ear. And then her neck. He drew a ragged breath.

"Any other strategies?" she asked him. Her voice emerged a whisper.

"Yes." His voice was equally quiet. "But I, um. I'm considering whether or not to enact them."

"Now I'm curious."

He brushed the hair from her shoulder and kissed her neck again, this kiss long and lingering. Pleasure spread from it like a web of heat. Somehow she didn't think that particular move had been part of his strategy.

Although, perhaps it had. A warm hand replaced his lips. He pressed his thumb into her skin and started moving it in slow circles. This was a new pleasure, something she'd never felt before. She purred, slipping deeper into the water.

"Maker… if you keep making those sounds..." His other hand joined the first, mirroring his attentions.

"Cullen?"

"Yes?" He continued the movements down her shoulders, pressing into the muscles.

"This isn't relaxing me."

"Oh." He stopped. "Sorry I -"

She turned her head, catching his lips before he could finish the apology. She wrapped a wet arm around his neck, not caring that she was dripping water down his back, and turned in the tub enough so that she could pull him closer. Her need was almost overwhelming.

And then the baby kicked.

She pulled back so quickly that her head spun. Cullen opened his mouth as if to ask why, but she snatched his hand and plunged it into the water. She had it pressed to her stomach just in time for the baby to move again.

His eyes went wide. He stared at her. "That's…" His gaze cut to his hand and the baby shifted once more. He swallowed. And then a grin stretched at the corners of his mouth and he started laughing. "My child. That's my child."

She giggled too. She'd never see her stoic husband experiencing such youthful joy.

Suddenly, he stuck both arms into the water and hooked them under her, lifting her out. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her head to his chest as he spun her around, still laughing.

"My child!" he shouted to the empty room.

* * *

The Rutherfords extended their stay until the day that Cullen left.

They gathered in the upper courtyard, a small blond throng amongst all the others saying goodbye to their loved ones.

Mia fussed over Cullen in a way that clearly made him deeply uncomfortable. It would have amused Solana if it hadn't felt like her heart was breaking in two. Not only was she saying goodbye to her husband and sending him into danger, but she was going to miss the Rutherfords.

In the weeks that they'd been there, she'd spent a great deal of time with them. They'd talked, traded stories and played many games of chess. Solana had even managed to best Mia a few times. It would be a long while before she saw them again. Possibly years, although Rosalie was determined they arrange a First Day visit to meet the baby while it was small and new.

Anders and Hawke joined Solana while she watched Cullen say his goodbyes. Their hands were linked and Anders kept looking at Hawke with wide, sad eyes. But Hawke's attention was focused on Cullen and amusement danced in his eyes at seeing the Commander so smothered with affection.

Once Mia had given her brother one last, final, hug, she turned to Solana. "Are you certain you won't come back with us?"

Solana shook her head, but it was Anders who spoke for her. "It's probably not a good idea for her to travel right now." He added, to Cullen, "I'll keep an eye on her, Commander, don't worry."

"That's precisely what he is worried about," Hawke joked.

From the look on Cullen's face, he'd probably hit closer to the truth than he realised.

Cullen's gaze came to rest on Solana. The intensity of his look said a thousand things that he was clearly struggling to give voice to. Eventually he said only, "I'll write."

"No you won't," Mia batted his arm. "He always says that. Never does. Don't be surprised if you don't receive word from him."

He closed his eyes and drew a breath. "I deserved that."

"I'll write on his behalf," Hawke offered.

"Don't." Anders said. A smile flickered across his lips. "You have terrible penmanship. It could only end in divorce."

"I resent that. You're still here aren't you?"

"Precisely why I am now _here_."

Rosalie was concentrating intently on her feet.

Mia cleared her throat and Solana saw her nudge Cullen. He gave her a pained look, then sighed.

"Solana, I… I have something for you." He pulled a small box out of his coat. "I wanted to give this to you in private, but my sister insisted that I do this here in front of everyone."

"You didn't invite us to the wedding," was Mia's response.

Solana's chest tightened. She found herself suddenly the centre of everyone's attention as Cullen stepped forward and offered her the box.

"Uh…" He seemed at least as uncomfortable as she was. "This was my mother's. I - that is to say, we - would like you to have it."

As she accepted the box, Mia said, "Cullen, honestly, that's the best you can do?"

His ears went pink at the admonishment. "Please open it?" he asked quietly.

She did. In a bed of lamb's wool sat a silverite and dawnstone ring. It was intricately engraved and obviously expensive.

"Mia brought it with from South Reach. It was my mother's wedding ring. When she heard I'd married… I did tell you I would give you a proper ring. I'm only sorry that it's taken me so long."

Solana was breathless. "Why me?" She cursed herself. Her question made no sense. "I mean why not save it? For Rosalie."

"I wanted you to have it," Rosalie said. "We all did."

"I… I don't know what to say."

Cullen took the ring from the box, lifted her hand and slipped it onto her finger, where the one he'd bought from Seggrit still sat.

"Welcome to the family," Mia said, coming in for a hug.

A flood of emotion rushed through Solana, momentarily drowning out her anxiety and sorrow.

Her whole body tingled.

 _Family._


	42. Weakness

_Dearest Solana,_

 _I am writing to you from the… from somewhere in the Dales. The maps simply say "Uncharted" which is not very helpful. It hasn't stopped raining since we left the Emerald Graves. I miss you terribly. I'm not sure what else to say. I've never been very good at writing letters. Not a moment goes by when I'm not thinking of you and our child._

 _What do you think of Cathaire for a boy? As leader of Andraste's army, the name embodies strength which I think is something you can approve of? Although, did you meet him? What was he like? Please don't tell me he was rheumatic with bad breath._

 _For a girl, not certain. I thought perhaps something from the old tales. Varric advises against Aveline and reminds me we both know an Aveline. She's a good woman, but now I will forever picture her. He suggested something from the constellations? Bellitanus for instance. Although now I write it out I'm not so certain I like it._

 _I wish I could talk to you._

 _Yours always,_

 _Cullen._

A note scribbled at the bottom in a different hand: _Not Bellitanus, please. The constellation originally referred to your friend Urthemiel._

L

* * *

 _Dearest Cullen._

 _Thank you for your letter. All is well at Skyhold, although it is quiet. I am not one to feel lonesome but I think there's something especially lonely about an empty castle. The halls echo and it feels as if there may be more spirits about than just Cole._

 _And no, I didn't say that to make you worry. We're fine. Everything is fine._

 _And I'm glad to hear you're fine. Although, you probably wrote that a week ago. I hope you're still fine. I enclosed a new pair of boots for you. I hope they reach you. Because I know you will be splashing around in your old ones as long as possible (probably insisting that your men get access to any supplies before you do) and I don't want you coming home without your toes._

 _Leliana advises against Bellitanus._ _How about_ _Eluvia?_ _No, too close to Eluvian which makes me think of Morrigan. How has she been? No trouble I hope._

 _I've been looking through the Chantry history for suitable names and we might have to look elsewhere. Too much of the Chantry is based around mages, and magic, being a thing of evil. I shudder to think that our child might have to carry a name - such as Ambrosia (pretty name) - only to realise later that Divine Ambrosia wanted to order an Exalted March against her own cathedral to eliminate the mages taking refuge there. Or Amara! The Divine who enjoyed bonfires fueled by the bodies of maleficarum!_

 _Imagine if our child is a mage and has a name with such connotations?_

 _Does it bother you - You have considered_ _\- I'm sorry, I'm getting carried away. Of course you have considered the possibility that our child might be a mage._

 _I love you and I miss you._

 _Please write as soon as you can, even just to let me know that you're still all right._

 _Love,_

 _Solana._

* * *

 _Dearest Solana,_

 _Yes, of course I have considered the possibility that our child might be a mage. I love him or her regardless, as I love you regardless. I have explained before that I have put my ill-considered feelings about magic behind me._

 _I would be lying if I were to say the possibility didn't frighten me. Not the magic itself but the… consequences. Life without magic is certainly easier. I would not want our child to go through what you have had to go through._

 _Josephine puts forward the name Asha as a possibility, for a girl. She was a great Antivan queen who apparently sired most of Thedas. Can you use "sired" for a woman? I'd ask her but she's currently meeting with the Empress._

 _I can't believe I just wrote that sentence._

 _I'm still fine, by the way. And I received the boots, thank you. (And you, Leliana. I have no doubt that you had something to do with ensuring my gift reached me… and that you are reading this)._

 _It was a very thoughtful gift. The rain has let up but this place really is a jungle, Morrigan was not exaggerating. Yesterday we saw our first Venatori and I found myself fighting knee-deep in some kind of bog. Smelled revolting. Our soldiers have had better luck today and we should have Corypheus on the defensive soon. I will try keep you up to date, although my future letters may be briefer._

 _Not quite as useful as your gift I'm afraid, but I wanted to show you how lovely the foliage is here so I've enclosed some pressings. I'm told the sweet-smelling vine is "arbor blessing" (I'm not sure of the flowers though. I suspect Morrigan would know, but I am hesitant to ask her. In answer to your question, she's been... aloof. Which I suppose is preferable to antagonistic.)_

 _None of it compares to you in_ _any way._

 _You are never far from my mind._

 _Your loving husband,_

 _Cullen._

* * *

"Celeste?"

Solana shivered. When Skyhold was full of dignitaries and adventurers (not to mention Rutherfords), it was easy to forget how, well, _creepy_ it was.

It was, after all, an abandoned castle in the middle of nowhere with untold history, built upon the bones of old elves and who knew who else. A great place to be stuck with a bunch of grim-faced Grey Wardens.

She was still trying to get used to her awareness of them. They were like oil-smudges at the edges of her senses. She'd never been around so many Wardens and it was disconcerting how much they felt like darkspawn. While Cullen and the mages had been there, it had been easy to distract herself. Now the sensation was suffocating.

Her only solace was Celeste. Even though she'd been given increased responsibility in the kitchens, she always found time for Solana. They'd been scheduled to have lunch together today, in fact.

When she hadn't arrived, Solana had gone looking for her in the kitchens. But apparently she'd had the morning off. So now Solana found herself hunting through the depths of Skyhold.

It wasn't like she had anything better to do.

Celeste shared a room with some of the servants and pointed Solana down to this section of the castle, where Celeste would often come to write to her son. It was dim and dusty, not unlike the area where Cullen had hidden the phylacteries, but close enough to the kitchens that it made sense for Celeste to set up a spot here.

It was also quiet enough that Solana could hear her own heartbeat. She didn't like it. Coupled with her sense of the Wardens, it reminded her too much of the Deep Roads.

"Celeste? Are you down here?"

Cobwebs and locked doors decorated the corridor. Solana rapped gently on a couple, but only the echoing of her own knocks answered. _This is pointless._ She was turning to head back upstairs, when a glimmer of light further ahead caught her eye. One of the doors was standing ajar. Candlelight burned within.

"Celeste?"

She nudged the door open and it creaked in protest. The musty smell of old books greeted her. The room was small and surrounded in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. In the centre stood a desk with several large tomes spread open on it. An array of wall sconces cast a flickering light. The fact that they were lit meant someone must have been here recently.

Was this where Celeste came to write to her son? It must have been an old enchanter's library, perhaps even dating back to Skyhold's previous occupation. How strange that the books hadn't been moved up to the main library. Fascination drove Solana further in. She ran her fingers over dusty spines, squinted to read depressed titles in unfamiliar languages.

The light was hardly enough to read by. It cast tall shadows across the shelves, throwing the books into pockets of darkness. She was well into the room by the time she realised that there weren't only books on the shelves. There were also collections of misshapen bottles and vials. _So, an alchemist's study perhaps, rather than an enchanter's library._

She reached for one of the vials, heart starting to beat a little faster. They'd found evidence of elves in other parts of the fortress, could these be ancient elven elixirs? Why had Celeste never said anything about this place? The things they could learn…

But as the tips of her fingers brushed the vial, it was immediately clear that these were no ancient potions. The glass was perfectly clean.

Solana chewed on her bottom lip. None of this made any sense. Her eyes moved across to the books splayed open on the desk.

Ice rushed through her.

These books weren't dusty either, and the big one in the centre had diagrams on it. Diagrams she'd only seen in one place before. Ferelden Tower, when the Circle fell.

 _No…_ it couldn't be what she thought. She was mistaken.

The words on the page were written in a swooping cursive in sepia ink and as Solana scanned them her heart thudded painfully.

 _"The spell that Crescens used seems to have called for a significant amount of power. There is no mention of who the sacrifice was. Slave? Or did he use Seraphinian's blood to power the spell while replacing her blood with his own? Possible to replicate but risky."_

Then the spell diagrams and scrawled power calculations. Calculations determining how much _blood_ was needed.

Solana was shaking as her hand closed around the vial she'd been reaching for. Celeste was a maleficar. She'd been honest about that from the start. And since then, she'd been doing everything she could to get close to Solana. Starting with the traumatic backstory. Did she even have a son?

The liquid in the small bottle was viscous, slicking the sides in red as Solana tilted it one way and then the other. She swallowed down bile. There was no denying what was in here. Still, she read the label.

A small sound escaped her lips. Written in that same swooping script was the word "Solana."

She stared at it, willing the word to change as her breath came in desperate gasps. She fumbled for another vial. It, too, bore her name.

Her name and a date.

She checked another.

Her name.

Her name, her name, her name.

Wave after wave of horror washed over. A sound in the corridor jerked her attention from the vials. She spun, heat flooding her veins, ordering her to run, back to her room, back to safety, back to where things made sense.

 _Whump._ Magic smashed into her chest, flinging her back against the shelves. The air was driven from her lungs as vials crashed to the ground and shattered at her feet.

She couldn't move, couldn't speak. The magic was pinning her in place.

A shadowy figure in the doorway swore. She recognised him by the silhouette of his feathered pauldrons.

Anders.

Cullen had been right. Why hadn't she _listened_?

She struggled to draw enough air into her lungs. Oh Maker, _the baby._

Anders swore again, then yelled down the corridor. "Celeste! You left the door unlocked."

Another figure pushed past Anders. "Maker's breath, what have you done?" The familiar voice confirmed Solana's fears.

"I didn't know it was her! I panicked."

Celeste rushed towards where she was pinned. "Let her go!"

"I can't let her go. She's the Hero of Ferelden. We'll both be dead in an instant."

"Can she hear me?"

"Yes, she's conscious. Just… still."

Celeste came to a halt in front of Solana. Her face was pale and her eyes were huge. "I can explain. I can explain everything."

But Anders wasn't quite as strong as he thought he was. Solana didn't care about explanations. All she cared about was getting out of there, getting the baby to safety. Anger gave her strength. She knew how to channel anger. She'd had plenty of practice.

 _BOOOM!_ One of the shelves flew across the room towards Anders. He dived out of the way just in time, but his spell was broken. Solana launched herself past Celeste, encasing her in ice. She tripped over her own feet. Heart in her throat, roaring in her ears, driving herself forward.

 _Out, away, get help._

But the air was thick. Like moving through molasses.

Was this a nightmare? Was she dreaming? It was the exact sensation of being stuck in a dream and unable to run. But this was real. She knew it to be real because she knew the Fade and this was not it.

"What is the meaning of this!" A heavily accented Orlesian voice that could only be Fiona's.

And then Solana was snagged again, just as she'd been by Anders's spell, but this power was oh so much stronger.


	43. Horror

A/N: So uh, headcanon time! With thanks to The Calling (the Dragon Age book, not the band :P)

* * *

Fiona stood framed by the doorway. The rebel mage leader. The one who'd taken Celeste on as an apprentice. The one who'd furthered Anders's cause.

Of course this was _her_ plot.

She was small in stature but she made up for it with _presence_. Her narrow shoulders were squared and she held a lit staff that threw her features into sharp relief. Solana stared at her, unable to move even as she struggled to. Unable to even swallow down the bitter bile that had risen to her throat.

Anders righted himself. "Celeste left the door open."

Celeste, being frozen solid, couldn't defend herself.

Fiona sighed, moving further into the room and closing the door behind her with a brush of magic from her free hand. "And so you decided to battle a pregnant woman?"

"I didn't realise it was her. And I didn't battle her. I was only trying to hold her still so she would hear us out."

Fiona moved past Solana without so much as looking at her. From the corner of her eye, Solana saw her reach out and unfreeze Celeste. The woman fell to her knees, shivering.

"We owe you an explanation," Fiona said, and Solana had to assume this was addressed to her. "We do not mean you any harm. In fact, we are trying to help you. We have been for some time. It is a pity you had to discover our efforts like this. I imagine it looks quite frightening."

The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor echoed in the small room and then Solana was being forced backwards and down into it.

The kind of power Fiona must have wielded to control her body like that...

 _Please don't hurt my baby._

Once Solana was seated, Fiona moved forward and loomed in front of her. "Please, do not blame Celeste for this situation. It is my doing. I am the one who requested she obtain samples of your blood."

Solana's heart was pounding so hard that it almost drowned out Fiona's words. _Blood?_ When had she taken her blood? How?

"I even suggested she use a sleeping potion. One that was safe for the child. And I taught her the spell that would heal the cut in your palm before you woke. She was uncomfortable dosing you without your knowledge. I doubt she would have done so had she not managed to convince you to take the potion willingly."

 _The tea._ A fresh wave of cold betrayal. Tears pricked at Solana's eyes.

Fiona moved to Anders's side and placed a friendly hand on his arm. "Nor should you blame Anders. Celeste wished to enlist his help. She knew him to be a powerful healer, and a Grey Warden himself. She wrote to him over the course of several months asking that he join us. It was only when we received news of your expected child, when the stakes became so much higher, that he agreed to come."

 _Do you want the official version or the truth?_ He'd asked. But he hadn't given her the truth. He had only implied it had been for Hawke, never actually said it.

But why _had_ he come? What were the three of them doing? What _stakes_?

Fiona sighed. "You see. I have some bad news. News, we were all hoping to keep from you until we found a solution."

Fiona seemed unable to look at her. Her pale green eyes focused off to the side of Solana's head. "Many years ago, when I was still a Grey Warden, I journeyed into the Deep Roads on a fool's errand. We were lured there, I later discovered, by a darkspawn emissary who wished to broker peace… or something like it. He aimed to do so by infecting every being with the taint. Of course, many would have died. But those who lived would have been resistant to the Blight as the Wardens are. And their children would have been too, because their children would…" She swallowed. "I'm truly sorry. The children would inherit the taint from the mother."

 _The taint. Her baby would..._ It was her greatest fear, the fear that had revealed the pregnancy in the first place. She couldn't breathe. Her heart felt like a cold stone slipping down through her chest into the Void itself.

She was 30 years old. If her baby had the taint… her child, _Cullen's child_ , would be dead at this age.

"I wanted to cure you," Celeste's voice said from somewhere behind Solana. "I thought Fiona could help."

Fiona glanced at Celeste and nodded. "And well you might believe that. After all, Magister Alexius did. He wished for me to cure his son. He indentured me, specifically, because he knew my history. He had me researching possible cures from the day we formed our alliance. Research which I have continued here."

Was that where all these books had come from?

The baby kicked. The fear rushing through Solana's blood had obviously reached it too. Just like the taint. Her vision was clouding. She didn't want to cry. She wanted to remain strong. But now the anger was draining away, all that was left was fear and sorrow.

Celeste came around her chair. She'd gathered up some of the vials and she showed them to Solana. "I only took your blood to test solutions. We've tried all kinds of things. I was going to tell you. When we found a cure. Even if Cullen would have had me locked up again, made… made Tranquil. I would have told you everything."

 _Cullen…_ how would she tell him their child carried the Blight?

"I'm going to lift the spell now," Fiona said. "I've said my piece. No doubt you have questions."

The pressure on Solana's muscles eased, her lungs heaved. A dizzy nausea that she hadn't felt since the first stages of her pregnancy threatened to overwhelm her. Her body felt impossibly heavy in the chair.

"In the book," her voice sounded soft and broken. "I saw in the book. Blood magic. You're… you're using blood magic, to try cure the Blight?"

Fiona frowned and drew a deep breath. She patted the book. "This is where I've been compiling our research. Many of the leads that Alexius had were from old Tevinter."

"Which means blood magic," Solana concluded.

It was Anders who answered. "Not necessarily. I abhor blood magic. Ask Hawke and he'll tell you that. We had this friend who… it doesn't matter. But Maker, how is what the Wardens do to us any better? You saw what happened at Adamant. They claim becoming a Warden is brave. But it's not, is it? It's running headlong into a trap."

Solana swallowed. "Is that Anders speaking, or Justice?"

"It's both of us. We are one and the same." He closed his eyes. "I won't lie and say my efforts here are entirely selfless. If we find a cure it might mean that I… welI, I want more time. But there's a justice in finding the cure too. Being a Warden is an unfair lot. There should be a _way out_."

Solana recalled Cullen's face when she'd told him about her limited lifespan. Ser Jory's desperate pleas when he learned the true nature of the Joining.

"That doesn't excuse blood magic." Or did it? She'd given up so much to her own abhorrence for a craft she knew very little about. She'd given up Alistair. Must she give up her child too? She pressed her eyes closed and started reciting the Chant. "Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His childre-"

"It's not the same thing," Anders said. "We're not slicing our palms or bloodletting here. No one is turning magic against anyone." He offered her a disarming smile.

"Except Livius." She watched him for reaction and was not disappointed when the colour drained from his face. "You killed him, didn't you? Cullen was right." She didn't believe for an instant that it could have been a coincidence.

Celeste shifted. "No, that was me."

"That's not true, I concocted the poison," Fiona admonished her.

"And it _was_ my idea," Anders offered. "I'd say we share the blame equally?"

"Why?" Solana addressed Anders, managing to keep her voice steady even though it took everything in her.

"Because he knew an awful lot about Warden blood. Corypheus must have shared at least some of his knowledge. And gaining an audience with the Elder One himself would have proved a little more of a challenge."

"Why kill him?"

"Because that's all the man really wanted. He was useless to the Inquisition. Your friend the Inquisitor only kept him alive because he appeared to take too much pleasure in the idea of his own death. It was the only way we could get him to talk."

"Tell me he told you something useful?"

None of them spoke.

"You didn't even learn anything from him, did you?"

Fiona answered, diplomatically."The information that Celeste gathered was interesting, but not entirely revealing. I would be happy to share it with you."

"Give me a summary." It was easier to slip into her role as the Hero, than to face her the emotions tearing through her.

Celeste stepped forward. "One of the things he kept repeating was that all corruption is the same. The taint and the Blight obviously. I mean, we all knew that. But he implied that the world itself is corrupted. The only way we can make sense of it is that he was referring to red lyrium. He confirmed it. Red lyrium carries the taint and that means… well, it's not too different from the potion you drink to become Wardens is it?"

Solana looked between Fiona and Anders. They weren't supposed to disclose that kind of information. Anders at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"So Red Tempars are essentially twisted Wardens. That's what you're saying?" Solana asked.

"It makes sense," Anders said. "They have the extra strength, we've seen that. And if Corypheus intended to unleash a Blight, then he'd need an army that was immune. An army he could _control._ The first time I met him... Solana, the power he had over my blood. It was unlike anything... it was worse than when Justice... he made me attack _Hawke_. So yes, I have no trouble believing that the corruption in the lyrium allows him to control his Red Templars as he controlled me. _"_

"But that doesn't help my situation at all." Solana stared down at her stomach.

"No, not directly," Fiona agreed. "But it does provide us with… something useful."

"Fiona…" There was a note of warning in Celeste's voice. Whatever the Grand Enchanter was getting at, was something she didn't want Solana to hear.

Which meant she needed to hear it. "Tell me."

Fiona shook her head. "You will likely not approve."

"Without her approval we don't have the means to act," Anders said. "She needs to _sanction_ it."

The chair clattered backwards as Solana shot to her feet. "Stop dancing around and tell me!"

Celeste jumped, but Fiona's gaze remained steady.

"Very well. We wish to capture some Red Templars and attempt to cure them."

Solana stared at Fiona. The mage's gaze did not waver.

"Human test subjects?"

Anders cut in. "Think about it, Solana. What kind of lives are they living now? You heard the stories out of Emprise du Lion. We'd be attempting to _cure_ them."

"Attempting." It was too much. It was all too much.

"The three of us can't capture them alone," Celeste said.

Solana realised what she was implying. "You want the Wardens. I'm… I'm in charge. You want me to order them to… would that even work? Aren't the Red Templars all in the Arbor Wilds?"

"Not all of them," Fiona said calmly. "We would only require a few."

"To torture!"

"They're being tortured already," Anders insisted. "There's only so much we can do towards a cure by staring at blood in vials."

Solana rounded on him. "How much does Hawke know about what you've been up to?"

"Nothing. He knows nothing. Nor would he likely forgive me if he ever found out. He lost… a lot to blood magic experimentation in the past. Whether you tell him or not...that's your prerogative." He seemed to run out of steam, sighing deeply. "Point is, Celeste here started this to save _you_. And then it became about saving your little one. But it's not about that anymore. It's about doing something good. And Maker knows after everything… after all that's happened. I owe the world some of that."

Solana hugged herself. What would Cullen do? What would he say?

He'd be against it, surely? She could see him scowling and telling them all that he would never sink to that level. Or would he? It was so hard to tell. Would he look at the odds, like he did before every great campaign, frown and nod his assent?

"Think about what it would mean if we could cure the Blight, forever," Fiona said. "Is that not the sworn duty of a Grey Warden?"

"I…" Solana caressed her stomach. It was hard to the touch as if swollen. Fear chased down her spine again. Then the baby moved. It would be okay. Everything would be fine. She just had to make it out of this, and then the next step would reveal itself. "I'll help you capture the Red Templars. But you'll try your other solutions first? No blood magic. And you won't hurt them. No more than they're already hurting. They were people once, honorable men and women like Cullen. I will not see us become like Samson or Corypheus."

"Of course, we only aim to help them," Fiona said.


	44. Heroic Offense

Ice lay thick on the mountain pass, the first snowfalls that gave the month its name had come not a week prior. Solana pulled her cloak tightly around herself. It barely covered her protruding belly and the baby shifted, as if it could feel the bite of the cold.

Fiona shot a glance at her. They were travelling in the back of a cart, lit only by the dim luminescence of the older mage's staff.

"Don't say it."

Fiona raised her eyebrows. "What is it I should not say?"

Solana shook her head. They'd argued about her accompanying them. For several hours, if Anders was to be believed. Solana considered herself strong willed, but she had met her match in Fiona. The Grand Enchanter had insisted that Solana should stay at Skyhold where it was warm and she wouldn't be jostled about or put in danger. But Solana didn't trust Fiona. And she certainly didn't trust Anders. No, if this was going to happen, she had to be there.

In the end, she'd won their argument by refusing to command any Wardens to accompany them on the mission unless she could go too. It had been a childish thing to resort to, but it had worked. Now six of her strongest marched alongside the cart and she fingered the message crystal that represented her role.

They'd been travelling for a few hours and there were still many to go, but if everything went according to plan, they'd meet the Red Templars at first light, capture them, and be back at Skyhold before the sun set.

Anders was riding up front with Celeste. He passed a canteen back and a whiff of it told Solana that it was not meant for her. Brandy. Wordlessly, she passed it to Fiona who took a large swig. Her breath came out in puffs of steam as she tightened the lid again.

"I was only going to mention that if you are uncomfortable, you might use the blankets and perhaps get some rest."

They had brought piles of blankets to cover the Red Templars with when they returned to Skyhold. Cold as Solana may have been, she didn't want to sleep. She didn't want to let down her guard.

"I am no stranger to discomfort," Solana responded. "Nor to cold."

"Of course."

Fiona's gaze drifted off to the side, to the trees that lined the road. Last time they'd travelled this way, it hadn't been a road at all. It had taken them three days of meandering up the mountain to find Skyhold. But the Inquisition needed supplies, so a proper route had been laid down and cleared. It wasn't smooth - the cart bounced alarmingly every so often - but it was quick and mostly safe from bandits and the like.

The silence stretched and the cold seeped into Solana's bones. There had been many nights like this in recent years. Sometimes, after Alistair, she'd enjoyed the discomfort. It was a masochism that she only vaguely understood. A punishment for letting him die. Yet, it seemed that the last few months had made her soft. Too many nights cuddled in the armchair before the fire, or stretched out in her bed beside the warm body of her husband. Grudgingly, she took one of the blankets and draped it around her shoulders.

 _Her husband._ What would he think of what they were about to do? It said a lot that she hadn't even been able to write it down to send to him.

She'd intended to. She'd tried.

 _Dearest Cullen,_

 _Something has happened_ _Things have changed_ _There's been a development since my last letter._

But how did she break the news about their child in a letter?

 _Our child has the blight. But I will fix it. I will kidnap red templars and experiment on them until I find a solution._

or

 _Our child bears the Warden taint. Fiona and some others have a plan. You needn't worry. Everything will be fine._

 _or_

 _Please forgive me. My worst nightmare has come to pass. I will do everything in my power to remedy this. I promise._

She'd given up eventually. The letter was still in her dresser, incomplete, hidden beside the phylactery she still hadn't revealed to him.

* * *

It felt as if her eyeballs had frozen over. Every time Solana blinked, her eyelids scraped. She knew the lack of sleep was to blame for the sensation, but that didn't make it feel any less like scratching away frost. The hours before dawn were so cold out here that she could no longer feel her nose and had to keep blowing on her fingers to avoid losing grip in them altogether.

The landscape was turning grey. They'd veered off the road and the cart shuddered to a halt as they reached a point on a hill above where the temple had stood. Debris still littered the ground, they'd have to go the rest of the way on foot.

Anders helped Solana down from the cart. Her muscles protested and she tried not to show her discomfort.

"Are you certain about this?" he asked. Her attempt to hide how she was feeling had clearly been less than successful. His eyebrows drew together and his large eyes were narrowed in genuine concern. "You can stay with the cart. One of the Wardens can -"

"No." Solana shook her head, clutching the crystal tight enough in her palm that it would leave indentations. "If I'm going to be a part of this, I'm going to be a _part_ of it."

Fiona pushed a blanket into her free hand. "At least try to stay warm."

The enchanter, too, seemed genuinely concerned for her. Solana was still angry with all of them. It was difficult to return their kindness. But she accepted the blanket and nodded.

Then, without exchanging so much as a word, they split into their groups. Celeste, Fiona, Anders and four of the Wardens started down the hill. One Warden stayed with the cart. And Solana slipped into the trees, leaving the final Warden to follow her.

She moved quickly and quietly, dormant survival skills stirring deep within her. The Warden, a man she only vaguely recognised from Adamant, struggled to follow. She heard him tripping over chunks of rock, slamming into low branches. Each time she cringed and eventually she spun around to face him. He nearly stumbled into her.

"Do you want to bring every wild beast and templar from here to Jader down upon us?" she hissed.

She couldn't see his expression in the dim light but she heard him mumble an apology.

And she was flung back in time, to a clumsy Alistair and the Brecilian Forest and him crashing into her when he tripped over a log and his face bright red as he stammered.

Now, she sighed. She tucked the blanket under her arm and unslung her staff. "Look, I'll be fine alone. I know how to stay out of danger. Go back to the cart. They're more likely to need your help there."

"I um… but you…" the man swallowed. Still too much like Alistair.

"If Fiona gets mad, I'll take responsibility. Tell her I ordered you back."

"It don't feel right, leaving you. I'll try be quiet."

But it wasn't just about the silence anymore. The memories hurt. "Do I need to remind you who I am?" she said kindly as she could manage. "This big belly doesn't change that. Plus, I have this." She held up the crystal. "If I need help, I'll call for it."

He was still skeptical, she could tell. But he nodded. "Alright, if those are your orders."

"They are."

He turned and started feeling his way back. She watched until he was out of sight between the trees. Then she drew a deep breath and pressed forward.

Silent, careful, absorbed in the sounds and smells and feel of the forest, it wasn't long before the trees opened up and she found herself on the edge of a crag. The pale sunrise in the east brushed the snowy landscape and from her position she could see the ruins of the temple.

It was hard to believe that it was the same place that she'd visited before. Jagged ruins jutted out from the snow, and in the centre of what had once been the main hall was a small camp.

She held the crystal to her mouth. Runes along the surface glowed as she spoke into it. "Camp is in the central hall. One of those big creatures pacing in front, must be keeping watch. Two tents. Not sure how many inside. Looks like they might sleep two."

She shook out the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders again before settling in the snow to wait for the response.

"Solana," Fiona's voice came from the crystal. "Can you see another way in? Would be preferable to avoid the big one."

"Agreed," she responded. How bizarre it was to talk to someone who wasn't there. Fiona had obtained the crystal. Solana wasn't sure where she'd found it, but it must have been rare, old magic. It would have been wonderful to communicate with Cullen like this, but frivolous too. This was more important. "I don't see another way in but I recall there was a tunnel that let out towards the back of the… okay I see it. It's pretty close to the camp and there's uh, red lyrium covering the entrance."

"We'll take samples," was Fiona's candid response. "Where's the entrance?"

Solana explained what she could remember and then the crystal went silent for a time. She leaned against a rock and didn't take her eyes off the Red Templar camp. When the tent flap facing her moved, she spoke into the crystal again. "These guys are rising bright and early."

She waited for a response. Her stomach tightened with nerves when one didn't come immediately. Then she saw why. A small shape squeezed through the gap between the red lyrium and the tunnel exit. Celeste, the slightest of their party. She pressed her back against the remains of the temple wall and crept away from the tents. Solana could see her every muscle was tensed, her eyes were wide. She was moving towards the big templar. Why? Couldn't she see it?

Solana held the crystal to her lips, ready to shout a warning, but then Celeste seemed to blend into the wall behind her. Solana's eyes were focussed on her when it happened, yet she struggled to track her movements. Her eyes kept wanting to slide around her. Her edges blurred and receded. She was there and not there. It was the spell she'd used to sneak berries into Cullen's office, the one she'd tried to teach Solana. And it worked. She moved right past the big Templar horror. Solana held her breath the entire time that Celeste was in range of its club and for a while after, until the mage took up a position behind a pillar and sank into a crouch, out of its sight.

"Solana?" she jumped at Fiona's voice from the crystal. She was speaking in a whisper. "Report."

Solana snapped her attention from Celeste to the tents. "Two foot soldiers just left the first tent," she whispered back. "They're in front of the fire."

"No activity in the second tent?"

"Difficult to see from here, doesn't look like it."

Fiona made a hmm sound that seemed displeased. "Alright. Here's what will happen. You must send sparks into the air to signal Celeste. She will draw the horror away. At that moment, I will destroy this red lyrium and we will draw the attention of the foot soldiers. I need you to keep an eye on the remaining tent and tell me exactly what you see. Do not concern yourself with the rest. Understood?"

The Grand Enchanter was a natural leader, the kind that Solana had never been. "Just tell me when," she said to the crystal.

Fiona started counting down from five. As she hit one, Solana drove her staff down as hard as she could into the ground. Magic discharged into the air, blindingly white against the dim landscape.

Celeste sprang to action. She rounded the pillar, fully-visible, and slammed her own staff down. The horror roared as it saw her sparks and thundered towards her. She took off at a sprint. The two by the fire pointed in her direction and called something ineligible. Then the lyrium growth in front of the tunnel exploded into a million shards and the four Wardens burst through. They joined with the foot soldiers, swinging vast silverite weapons and aiming for their heads.

Solana pulled her attention back to the second tent. Sure enough, the hubbub outside had drawn the attention of its occupant.

"One marksman," she told Fiona, watching the templar scramble from his tent.

"Only one?"

Before she could answer, a scream rent the air. Solana's heart jumped to her throat. Celeste. Celeste had been hit. Solana scrambled to her feet, uncertain what to do, blood pumping with the urge to go to her. The horror lifted its club again and Celeste rolled aside as it slammed into the earth beside her.

"Solana!" Fiona's voice demanded from the crystal.

"Celeste needs help!"

"The tent. Watch the _tent._ "

But Solana couldn't pull her eyes away as Celeste blocked a swing with a hasty barrier. Her shoulder was red with blood.

Another cry wrenched Solana's attention from her friend's struggle. Fiona was running forward from the tunnel, brandishing her staff. She struck out with fire, burning the foot soldiers and the archer. The second tent, the one Solana was meant to be watching, erupted in flames.

Anders followed Fiona out and stood still, as if in shock. To Solana's relief, his hands started glowing. Not shock, gathering mana. He threw a spell at the horror - a blizzard - as Fiona's staff connected with the marksman's temple. The blizzard swirled around the horror, slowing its movements and obscuring its vision, and Anders dashed forward to help Celeste.

It looked like they had the battle in hand. Solana drew a deep breath of relief.

Then she heard the movement behind her.

She expected a templar. A second occupant of the burning tent. She had her staff before her, a barrier spell already on her lips.

But what the dim light of dawn illuminated was something far more terrifying.

A great bear. It must have come to investigate, drawn by her scent and perhaps the sparks from her staff. Now, startled by the flash of light from her barrier spell, it rose onto its hind legs and roared. It was a deep, gut-rattling sound. Solana stumbled backwards, but there wasn't space to maneuver. Blood roared in her ears and her heart slammed in her chest as she stared up at the beast, frozen in terror. Without warning, its left paw darted forward, crashing against her barrier. It pushed her off balance and in the split second it took for her to right herself, the bear had hooked her and was pulling her in. She struck up at the snout with her staff, but her blow seemed to do nothing at all. The giant head came towards her and she threw her weight to the side, staggering as she called the words to a cone of flame spell. The bear's jaw missed her shoulder as she grabbed at any part of its flesh she could reach.

It howled again, this time in agony. Injuring it had been the exact wrong thing to do. The entirety of its weight came down on her shoulders and her knees gave in. She was screaming. Her voice ringing in her ears was secondary. Her life was secondary. What mattered was the baby. Her child. She curled in on herself, forming a protective cocoon over her belly as the bear pushed her to the ground and slapped her with its mighty paws. The smell of charred flesh filled her nostrils as her barrier gave way. Claws ripped across her back and teeth tore the cloak from her shoulders and she prayed to the Maker. She prayed like she could never remember praying before. _Please, let the baby live._

Another giant paw slammed against her head and the world spun and she had no voice to scream. She had been overconfident. She had been foolhardy and conceited. But her baby had done nothing. Cullen had done nothing.

 _Please, let my baby live._

Then, as if her prayers were being answered, a scream that wasn't hers. And a spell that wasn't hers and another and another. She smelled ice and more fire. The bear rose off her, a blizzard blew around her, tearing at her hair and stinging her eyes as she tried to see what was happening. All she saw was a blue glow. Then one last anguished roar from the bear. A crash of something heavy falling on dry sticks. A ringing silence.

Then hands. Soft hands brushing her hair from her face and unfolding her and pulling her upright and whispering panicked spells. And large eyes filled with concern and fear. And healing power running through her like bliss, stitching closed the skin on her back, removing the bruising from her shoulders.

"Anders?" she whimpered.

"Yes. I'm here. It's alright."

She fell forwards into his arms with a sob and he held her and gently rocked her until she heard the others arrive. Fiona was demanding to know things. Celeste was on her knees beside them. There was a Warden stammering apologies. But Solana kept her eyes closed, her forehead resting against Anders's chest.

"She's in shock," she heard him say. "But she's fine. I've healed her."

"Thank the Maker," Celeste said.

Yes, thank the Maker. "It happened so quickly," she said, finding her voice and her throat raw. "I'm supposed to be…" supposed to be the Hero of Ferelden. She'd let the title go to her head. Or perhaps she'd believed that since she'd survived so much, nothing ordinary could harm her. Her stomach churned with guilt. She'd put herself, the baby, in so much danger and for what? If that Warden had been there this would never have happened. She'd sent him away. She'd done this.

"Do you think you can stand?" Anders asked.

She nodded, shifting to get her feet under her. "The templars, did you -"

The words died in her throat as a sharp pain cut across her lower abdomen. She gasped.

"Solana?" Anders was looking at her with those big worried eyes, but she couldn't answer him, the pain was too intense. Her knuckles went white where her fingers curled into the front of his robes and she pressed her eyes closed as dread welled up inside her.

She wasn't fine. It wasn't over.

"The baby," she said.


	45. Hemorrhage

A/N: WARNINGS. Okay so as you probably guessed from the last chapter this one involves some uh drama. I've tried not to be too graphic, but I needed to be true to the characters and what they're going through.

I'm going to put a trigger warning in for birth trauma. If this is something that affects you, please skip ahead to the next chapter. It should all still make sense. If it doesn't, you're welcome to comment or message me and I'll gladly give you a summary.

* * *

Staring into the maw of an archdemon had nothing on the fear that coursed through Solana now. It was colder than the slopes of the Frostbacks, more horrifying than the depths of the deep roads.

"It's too early," she panted as Anders lifted her into the cart.

Celeste tucked a folded blanket under her head and squeezed her hand. Her own arm was red with blood but the wound had been sealed and if she was still in pain she gave no show of it. Her expression bore only concern for Solana. She'd given birth before. She knew the pain.

Solana writhed as fresh agony ripped through her, yelling out into the night.

"How far along are you now?" Fiona asked, kneeling down on her other side. "Seven months? Eight?"

"Nearly eight."

"It might still… the taint." Her eyes sought Anders. Both Warden and healer, he'd know better than any the chances they had.

The cart shifted with his weight as he climbed in. "It might help."

For all the negative side effects of bearing the taint, extra strength and constitution were the pay off. Would those apply to the baby?

There was enough light now that Solana could make out a little of Fiona's face hovering over her. Her lips were pressed thin. She didn't seem overly confident. She snapped her attention to someone unseen, up at the front of the cart.

"Start for Skyhold. It is possible we'll make it in time, but we must hurry."

"But the Templars -" Solana started.

"That hardly matters now," Fiona cut her off.

Shame washed over Solana. If she'd only stayed at home like Fiona had suggested, their mission would have been a success. Her baby wouldn't be in peril. She bit down on her bottom lip as the cart jolted into motion.

The hours blurred past. The slopes grew brighter. The grey sky was illuminated first in patches between the leaves and then in all its glory, too bright to look at but through slit eyes. The pain would come in agonising waves. Each seemed sharper than the previous and Solana would dissolve into wails, all energy leaving her. After the first few, Anders, who was settled near her feet, requested blankets and Celeste passed them, her face grim. Anders had delivered babies before. Solana knew that much from Hawke's stories. And she found herself at his mercy. Twice he had asked to check between her legs. And she had consented, hoping and not hoping for an end to come. Caught between a desire to hold off until the facilities Skyhold offered, and yearning for the pain to stop.

The great fortress loomed above them, that eternal beacon for the desperate, only an hour's journey away, when Anders said softly, "Fiona…"

Solana looked immediately to the Grand Enchanter's face, saw how she swallowed and nodded.

Something silent had passed between them that Solana didn't understand. It frightened her. She expected Fiona to call a halt, but she didn't. She leaned in closer to Solana, her face drawn and pale in the bright light.

"Show me. Where is the pain?"

Solana lifted an arm from beneath the blankets and felt along the lower part of her abdomen. The arm felt heavy and alien.

"What kind of pain is it? Constant or in waves? Is it aching or burning?"

"Burning. Waves."

Fiona nodded as if that's what she expected and her eyes cut to Anders.

Another wave of pain crashed down on Solana, and the scream it ripped from her throat was almost enough to drown out Anders's voice. But not quite. "It's a lot of blood."

"Too much," Fiona agreed.

 _Blood?_

She'd felt wetness but Celeste had told her it was her water breaking. Natural, expected. No one had mentioned blood. Was that why Anders had asked for the blankets? Is that what they hid?

Solana tried to suck air back into her lungs as the pain died away again. "What does that mean? What are you saying? Is something wrong?"

Fiona took her hand and didn't answer. This strange tenderness made the situation all the more terrifying.

By the time they reached Skyhold, the pain was all-consuming, with hardly a moment's break between the contractions. Solana was vaguely aware of Anders lifting her into his arms, of concerned masses pressing around her, of Fiona holding them off with vague answers. The light kept dimming, flickering, like a swinging lamp and Solana was too weak to even lift her head.

She recognised her room only by the smell of it. Wood and mold and ashes and something else, something that made her think of Cullen. She ached for him. She moaned his name, even while knowing he was too far away to come to her aid.

Anders lay her down gently on top of her bed covers. "I'll be back shortly," he said softly before disappearing from her view. She heard the click of the door behind him.

"Fiona!" Solana choked, twisting against the pain. But the enchanter wasn't there yet. She didn't want to be alone. Alone with the suffocating fear, the overwhelming pain.

"I'm here," a soft voice said and she knew without looking that it was Cole. "Shhh, you're not alone."

"The baby?" The question emerged a terrified sob.

He moved around to the end of the bed, and she forced her eyes to follow him. His expression was nothing but a vague frown beneath the shadow of his hat. "It's blocked."

The door slammed open and Fiona rushed in, "Celeste, get hot water, more blankets."

The mage, who'd been following closely behind her, turned and hurried out again.

"It's blocked," Cole repeated.

Fiona jumped. She either hadn't noticed him there, or he hadn't shown himself before. She recovered quickly. "I suspected as much." Her mouth was set in that same grim line. "Go help Celeste."

Cole blinked, not accustomed to being given orders. Then he nodded and disappeared. Fiona placed a cool hand on Solana's temple.

Solana stared up at her. "Please... tell me what's... what did he mean?" It was difficult to form the words, they came out slurred.

Fiona appeared to consider her response carefully. Then, with a look of resignation, she said quietly, "Your child should have been born already. The birth canal is somehow blocked."

"What does that mean?" Solana's voice went shrill as poker-hot pain tore across her senses.

"It means, if we are to have any hope, we must cut the child from your womb."

Her words took a moment to settle, and then they jerked at Solana's heart and nausea welled up were there'd only been pain and exhaustion before.

"Please… Cullen… his child." The way his face had lit up when he'd felt it kick. How he'd spun her around, laughing. "You have to save the baby. You have to."

The door opened. Anders, panting, waving fists full of green, which Fiona snatched from him.

She stroked Solana's hair back and pressed the plant matter into her mouth. "Here, chew this. It will help with the pain."

She recognised the bitter taste of elfroot.

Then Celeste was there too, hissing as hot water sloshed against her legs. And Cole popped into being, arms laden with blankets. So many people, all at once. The room felt stuffy and too small.

"Took you long enough," Fiona snapped to Celeste. Could she even see Cole? "We'll need tea. Citrus and brine. Now."

Celeste blinked at her. Even in her state, Solana knew neither of those things were easy to come by way up here, Inquisition or no.

Fiona didn't wait for an answer from Celeste. Her attention moved to Cole. _She did see him_. "I'm going to need your knife."

"You're going to cut her open?" Celeste squeaked.

"Tea!" Fiona demanded.

Celeste shifted from foot to foot, clearly torn.

"Tea! Now!" Fiona snapped again and Celeste fled from the room.

The knife flashed in the dim light. Solana's own ragged breath and her pounding heart were the only things she could hear. Her mind was clouding, her mouth and throat numb from the bitter herb.

"You've done this before?" Fiona asked.

"Yes," Anders said.

Solana pressed her eyes closed. She didn't want to see him cut her open. But if he didn't, the baby would die and she likely would too. They couldn't heal her or stop the bleeding without trapping the baby. It would continue to push at her insides, her muscles would continue to try push it out. The only way they might both live was this.

"Hold her still." Anders's voice seemed to come from a great distance. Solana felt Fiona pressing down on her shoulders, heard her making soothing noises, but the words themselves melted away. The room shifted one way, then the other, and then dissolved into a muddy red-brown.

* * *

Celeste moved as quickly as she could without spilling the tea. The merchant from Orlais had had both lemons and salt in stock. Perhaps the Maker smiled on them after all.

She shouldered the door open. Then almost dropped the cup.

Her eyes slid over the gore on the bed, unable to focus on it, to where Fiona and Anders stood huddled together.

"It's not crying," Fiona was saying, urgently. She held a bundle of cloth. It was small and still. "It's not crying!" she repeated. "Heal it. Do something!"

Anders's brow was furrowed deeply as he stared at the bundle. He touched it with a bloodied hand. Then jerked as if in fright.

Fiona laughed her relief. "Well, hello there, Blue Eyes."

"She's alive," Anders said breathlessly. "Alive, breathing, staring at us but not... " His gaze rose to Fiona's. "Not crying. You don't think..."

"Is it even possible?" Fiona's expression clouded again.

Anders took the bundle from her without answering and moved towards the bed. "Solana, it's a girl."

Solana didn't respond. She must have been asleep. Celeste let out a shaky breath as she set down the cup. She remembered little of her own labour. The years had dulled the memory of pain. She recalled heat and her face wet with tears and her sister holding her hand while the midwife shouted for her to push. And afterwards a dizzy floating emotional turmoil. She hadn't been through the hours of agony Solana had, but she too had slept.

"She's exhausted," Fiona said, kneeling down beside Solana and brushing hair from her face. She wore a soft smile and in this unguarded moment the Grand Enchanter seemed almost maternal.

Then she paused, eyes widening. "Solana?"

She pressed the back of her hand against the side of Solana's neck. "Solana!"

 _Oh, Maker…_

Fiona hovered her hand over Solana's mouth. And Celeste's heart kicked even as her mind was denying Fiona's actions, trying to find another explanation for them besides the obvious. Anders was drawing closer, his slack jaw and shining eyes mirroring the horror Celeste was feeling.

Fiona swore and started shaking Solana's body. "No, no, no, no, no." She shook her, leaned her ear against her mouth again. "No! I refuse to accept this!"

Celeste was paralysed with terror. She didn't think that Fiona had even noticed her coming back into the room, but then the Grand Enchanter lifted her head. Her eyes met Celeste's. They flashed with desperation "It's not too late. I can get her."

 _What?_

"Help me!" Fiona begged. "You're the maleficar. Help me!"

Then Celeste realised what Fiona was asking. She stumbled backwards as her knees threatened to give in. Every part of her said no, she couldn't do it. She'd sworn she never would.

Yet there wasn't time for doubt. There was only Fiona and a look of anguish Celeste could never have imagined seeing on her face. There was only Solana's body, cooling on the bed.

And there was blood. More than enough blood for the spell she needed.


	46. Pull of the Abyss

There we are. No more pain." Alistair smoothed the bandage across Solana's stomach and looked up at her, dimples forming with his smile. "You need to stop rushing into battle like this. Remember, I'm the one with all the fancy armour."

Firelight played off his features. His warm amber eyes sparkled as if with silent humour, but there was genuine concern there too. He used humour like the Orlesians used their masks. It felt like she hadn't seen him in a very long time.

She reached out to touch his face, overcome with strange emotion. Her vision was clouding and she couldn't say why.

"Hey, don't cry." He brushed a tear from her cheek with a gentle, calloused, touch.

"Alistair…" Memories were coming back to her. That look as he'd unsheathed his sword, as he'd run forward to slay the archdemon. The look that had told her plainly, he was doing it for her. "I had a terrible dream." Her words came out in a sob. Other memories were pushing at her too, but she fought them back.

He rose to his knees and wrapped her in his arms. "I'm sorry. About the dreams. It's a Warden thing. I should have warned you."

She buried her head against his chest and breathed in, expecting his comforting smell. There was nothing. He didn't smell like anything. She pulled away to look at his face, but it was shadowy. She couldn't see the details. She could focus on one feature at a time, but couldn't make out the whole thing together.

"Alistair?" Another voice, a woman's voice.

Solana looked up, expecting to see Wynne. But it was a different mage. She recognised her as Fiona even as everything in her riled against the fact that this woman existed. No, that had been a dream. That whole part of her life had been a dream.

Fiona was standing just beyond their circle of firelight. Alistair scrambled to his feet, reaching automatically for his sword. "Who are you?"

Fiona moved forward as if with great difficulty. "I need to take her back now."

Alistair shook his head. "She doesn't belong in a Circle anymore."

"I'm not taking her to a Circle," Fiona said. "I'm taking her back to her family."

 _Family…_

"She doesn't have a family," Alistair said fiercely. "I'm her family."

"Alistair is ten years dead." Fiona was still moving towards him, her eyebrows puckered and her lips turned downward in an expression of unbearable sorrow. "You know that, Solana. This man standing here isn't real. At best he's a construct your mind has created to ease your transition to the Beyond."

"No," Solana shook her head. "That's not true." And she was instantly on her feet.

"Solana, your child needs you."

"Child?" Alistair looked at her.

"The Commander needs you."

Alistair's eyes narrowed. "Commander?"

"Cullen," Solana whispered.

"Now wait a minute, you're having it on with that Templar?" Alistair wanted to know.

At once she saw his face before her, his intent gaze, the small twist of his mouth. _I, Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford, pledge myself to this woman, Solana Amell, with my entire heart and soul._

"I'm married to him," she said. "Where am I?"

"You're in the Fade," Fiona answered softly.

Alistair was looking between the two. "I think I understand. _I'm_ the dream."

"I'm sorry," Fiona's gaze met his and lingered.

"Please tell me it's not a demon this time?" Alistair asked. "That maze still gives me nightmares. I mean you nightmares." His eyes narrowed in confusion and Solana watched his familiar expressions as he tried to work things out. They flashed in and out of focus. Like her memories of him.

"It's not a demon," Fiona provided, holding out her hand to Solana. Fiona looked so much smaller here, and fragile.

"I'm dying?" Solana asked, recalling what Fiona had said about the Beyond.

"We don't have long."

Solana accepted Fiona's hand. It felt solid in a way that Alistair's embrace had not.

"Wait!" Alistair said. Fiona's grip tightened as Solana turned to look at him one last time. He offered her a wan smile. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you got to marry someone. And to have a family. You always wanted that, I remember. And that's what I wanted for you when… well when I did what I did."

It was difficult to move from the circle of light. It was like wading through water. But Fiona's grip was tight and she pulled Solana forward.

The familiar brown earth and green sky of the Fade as Solana knew it appeared around them, but it was also somehow different from what she'd seen before. She couldn't see the floating debris or the Black City and there were no demons. Instead images shimmered around them, in translucent scenes.

Solana recognised some of them from her life. The day training mages at the river, Cullen standing stoic as their charges tested their abilities. The night before the assault on Adamant, the tents stretching into the starry distance.

"We're looking for some kind of door, that's what he said," Fiona spoke.

"What who said?" Solana asked.

At her question, the scene around them changed. A woman was chained to the ground, her back torn open as if it had been whipped for hours. A vaguely familiar man knelt beside her, releasing her shackled wrists. It took Solana a moment to recognise him as the man who'd recruited her for the Wardens, Duncan. A much younger Duncan. Behind them a man in full armour with long blond hair, who looked a little like Alistair, drove his sword through the chest of a nobleman.

"Maric," Fiona answered.

"King Maric?" Solana asked. "You knew King Maric?"

"He saved me and others from the Fade once. He told me that the exit was a door."

It was becoming more difficult to move. Now instead of water, it felt to Solana like she was wading through thick mud. Fiona turned, taking both of her hands.

"You need to hold on." She started moving backwards, pulling Solana after her. Each step was more difficult. Her grip on the Grand Enchanter's hands was slipping. "Your daughter needs you. She will not survive without you."

 _Daughter._ "A… it's a girl?"

The scene around them changed again. Fiona was calming a baby with a shock of blonde hair. Was this what was happening out in the waking world? Was that her child?

 _Her child. Cullen's child._

Solana forced her legs forward. She dug her nails into Fiona's palms.

"That's it!" Fiona said. But Fiona was becoming translucent too and the pull that Solana was struggling against was starting to feel more like gravity itself.

 _No._ She couldn't give in. She couldn't die. If she died, her baby died. What would it do to Cullen?

The scene changed again. Cullen after he found out about the Calling and the taint, after he'd overdosed on lyrium. Cullen sagged against the wall. What would it do to him if he came home from war to find them both dead? Cullen wrapped in her arms. A whimper. "Don't leave me."

She fought her way forward, but the pressure of Fiona's grip was fading. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing pulling her in the right direction.

 _Find a door._

There was no door. There was only brown and green and… a mousehole. A tiny little mousehole in front of her.

* * *

Celeste was trembling so hard that her legs collapsed under her.

Anders rushed to her side as Fiona jerked out of her trance. "No! Send me back!" She didn't look at Celeste. She shook Solana's shoulders. "I needed more time. She needs me."

Anders wrapped an arm around Celeste and pulled her close. The other arm was still cradling the silent baby.

"Send me back!" Fiona demanded again.

"She can't. She's done. Look at her," Anders snapped.

Fiona lifted her head. The expression of anguish melted from her face. Celeste felt ashamed of her own weakness.

"I… apologise," Fiona said. "You did well. More than most might have under the circumstances."

With a heavy sigh, she reached for the blankets. Presumably to cover the body. But as she did, Celeste noticed Solana's ring was glowing. Not the fancy one that Cullen's family had given her. The original wedding band.

Then the body jerked. Solana gasped. Her eyes flew open.

* * *

"Fiona!"

The world was a blur of grey and brown and that feeling of heaviness hadn't left her. Was she mouse or person? Had she said the enchanter's name or had she only meant to? Everything was spinning. Someone grabbed her hands.

"Here, I'm here." Fiona's voice. Her face blurred in and out of focus, hanging above Solana. "Oh thank the Maker, thank Seggrit."

Fiona's words made no sense. "Baby…" Solana managed to say.

"Anders, bring the child, and the tea," Fiona ordered, but he must have already been on his way because Fiona was handed a cup and a small bundle was placed on Solana's chest.

It was tiny and still and her heart kicked with fear.

"Congratulations," Anders said, "it's a girl."

Solana didn't have the strength to speak. Fiona brought the cup to her lips and it was all Solana could do to swallow the salty-sour concoction as the enchanter brushed her hair back from her forehead.

The little bundle moved. An arm broke free of the swaddling. Tiny fingers. So small, but grasping. Each minuscule digit was perfectly formed, with diminutive nails and teensy knuckle wrinkles. Fiona gave the hand a finger to clasp.

Solana was overcome. This small being was a person, was the same baby she'd carried inside her all this time. Her little seed.

"I'm going to get Celeste something to eat," Anders said. "Will you two be alright?"

"Three," Fiona corrected him. "Yes, I believe we will be."

Solana heard them leave but she was still enraptured by the tiny hand. She tried to lift her own arm so that she could move the bundle, see more. But her limbs were still too heavy. Fiona seemed to guess her intentions. She moved the baby so that it was lying across Solana's chest.

She found herself staring down into a pair of large blue eyes. They were looking up at her with frank curiosity, a small line of concern between them. Something about the look was so Cullen that Solana started laughing. She was so beautiful. The most beautiful, the most perfect thing she had ever laid her eyes on. And she felt as if her entire life had been leading to this.

But she noticed something else curious. Her daughter's head was covered in fine hair, but there was no mop of blonde like she'd see in the Fade.

The room bled away, and then came back into focus again. She had the feeling that it was a little later. Fiona was propping her up on pillows.

"You should try to nurse."

Perhaps Solana should have felt self-conscious as the enchanter bared her breast, but she was only curious. Her limbs were still heavy and she was willing to let Fiona position the baby and guide the infant to its first meal.

"Sometimes it takes a little while to get it right," Fiona said.

But the tiny mouth latched and Solana couldn't stop staring at it.

Every time Solana emerged from the murky darkness of dreamless sleep, she found much time had passed. Days melted together as she woke being fed or feeding. Sometimes she came to when Fiona or Celeste positioned the baby to nurse, but not always. The baby never cried, it didn't appear to need comforting or calming. She was like a soft, warm, doll with bright doll eyes and flexing fingers.

This wasn't normal. Even in her exhausted fog, Solana knew that. But was it an effect of the taint, or something else?

One day she came to to a familiar voice. Max was outside, asking to see her. Her muddled brain didn't quite get to what that might mean before he was sitting down beside her explaining that Cullen wasn't back yet, but not to worry. Max had come through the eluvian with Morrigan. They'd bested Corypheus. Cullen was fine and would be here soon. Fiona had already sent a bird.

Max had brought flowers. They were yellow and red and blue. Too bright. But they reminded Solana of the wedding. The gentle light through the Chantry windows. Cullen's face.

"I came to offer my congratulations," Max said, flashing his dazzling smile.

"Thank you," Solana responded weakly. "But surely I should be offering you mine?"

He patted her hand, mouth pulling into a grim line as she sank down into darkness again.


	47. Maker's Will

Cullen galloped through the gates, jerking the reins so suddenly when he saw FIona waiting for him that the horse reared and almost threw him from its back.

"Where is she? What's happened?"

Fiona wore a dull grey - not black but not exactly reassuring either - and her face was drawn.

It was she who had written to him. _Come quickly. It's Solana and the baby._

It was all the note had said, all it _could_ say, delivered by bird.

Cullen had ridden straight, without resting, stopping only to change horses. He knew he looked a mess. He didn't care.

Fiona's face was grim and she said nothing as he dismounted. He'd hoped to find Solana waiting for him. But he'd dreaded it would be Trevelyan. If it had been the Inquisitor, he would have known…

"Maker, tell me she's alive?"

Fiona nodded. "She is. Come."

He followed her across the courtyard, leaving the horse to be seen to by someone else. People kept stopping to stare at him, or whisper. His stomach was liquid dread. What did they know that he didn't yet? It had to be the baby.

The room was dim and too warm, lit by the fire in the grate. As his eyes adjusted, they immediately flew to the bed. Solana was there, tucked up, asleep and as pale as the sheets, her hair a flaming contrast. It was obvious that she was no longer pregnant. He moved towards her, but Fiona caught his arm.

Celeste rose from a chair by the fire. She was holding a small bundle of cloth and she brought it towards him.

Cullen's heart slammed. The baby. Alive. But then what was wrong?

Before he could gather his wits to ask, he was being handed the bundle.

"Commander, I'd like you to meet your daughter," Fiona said softly.

"Daughter…my..." his voice cracked. The child was asleep. A tiny face, with rosy cheeks and a pink mouth like her mother's. A wave of emotion hit him unlike anything he'd ever felt before. His _daughter_. _His._

But no one in this room was happy. Surely if everything was as it should be, they would be? "She's very small. She's not... too small is she?"

"She was born early," Fiona said. "But she carries something in her blood that makes her particularly resilient."

He raised his eyes to hers. Her look was filled with meaning.

"No…" It was what they had feared. The taint. "You can't possibly know that. Not already."

"I do."

Thirty years. She would have a chance to come of age, to perhaps have children of her own. Thirty years was better than the horrors he'd imagined on his desperate ride. He closed his eyes and tried to steady the rapid beating of his heart. Thirty years was a long time, long enough perhaps to find a cure.

"I wish that was the sum of the news I have for you, unfortunately there is more," Fiona said.

He dared not breathe. Terror like he hadn't known since Kinloch, perhaps ever, flashed through him. "Solana?"

Fiona shook her head. "It's your daughter… from what we can tell, she is Tranquil."

He stared at her. The word made no sense. "You're mistaken."

"Possibly, but it is unlikely."

"It's not… how? No one is _born_ Tranquil. You have to undergo the Rite."

Fiona pulled him aside, further away from the bed where his wife slept. "Circle Mages are forbidden from having children. The effects of consuming potions, like lyrium for instance, have not been properly studied. Tell me, Commander, did she consume a large amount of lyrium while with child?"

His veins flooded with ice. _The brush of her fingers as he handed her the bottle. "This should make you feel stronger."_ He'd given her lyrium that night in Halamshiral. Who knew how much more she'd taken since.

He swallowed. "It is possible."

Fiona sighed. "A woman would usually recognise pregnancy well before the stage at which Solana did and take precautions. Her Calling misled her. There is still so much we don't understand about lyrium. Add to that that she went physically into the Fade… there could be a variety of reasons for this."

Cullen stared down at the fragile young life in his arms. He knew the reason. It was his punishment. How many mages had he seen go through the Rite in Kirkwall without stepping in? The Maker could not make him Tranquil as punishment, so he had seen fit to punish his child instead. Fatigue and emotion overwhelmed him. His vision blurred.

"Solana… is she…?"

"It was a difficult delivery. We very nearly lost her."

The words stabbed through him like a blade. "But she will recover?"

"She is still very weak. The best we can do is let her rest, give her what sustenance we can. She is a fighter, Commander. Remember that."

"The Hero of Ferelden," he whispered.

* * *

Solana drifted to consciousness, aware that someone was holding her hand.

It was a curious enough sensation that she forced her eyes open. They took a moment to focus and even when they did, she didn't immediately recognise him. His face was dirty, his beard had grown out and he wasn't wearing his surcoat.

"Cullen?"

He came alive at the sound of her voice, leaning forward, smiling that jagged smile. "Solana."

His smell washed over her. He must not have washed in days, but there was nothing off-putting about his scent. It was all Cullen. It made him real. He really was home. It had been so long. She tried to squeeze his hand. "You're back," she managed weakly.

"And I'm never leaving you again. I promise." He touched her cheek and his eyes shone. It was so good to see his face. She could get lost in the familiar lines and curves of it. His heavy brow, his strong cheekbones, the jagged scar, the gentle smile.

"The baby. Have you seen?"

"Yes. She's beautiful."

"We still haven't decided…" She was going to end the sentence _on a name_ , but a dark truth bobbed up out of the fog in her mind, rising to the forefront of her thoughts and cutting off her words. Her unsent letter still sat in her dresser. He didn't know. "Cullen… the…" She squeezed his hand as she tried to find the strength to tell him, to dash that fond and hopeful expression from his face. "She's… the t-taint."

"Shh… shh…" He leaned down and kissed her forehead, his thumb brushed across her cheek. "It's alright, Fiona told me everything. About that and the Tranquility. But it will be alright, we'll -"

"Oh, Maker." Celeste's voice came from over by the fireplace, but Solana was only vaguely aware of it, the thrumming of her pulse in her ears drowned it out.

 _Tranquility._

Cullen made a small strangled sound as he spun to look at Celeste. "You didn't _tell her_?"

"No... we - she - we were waiting for her to recover."

"And you didn't think to mention to me that she _didn't know_?"

Cullen's temper was something to behold. Solana had only had it directed at her twice. In Kinloch and the day Anders arrived. Even when he'd discovered she'd been hiding the fact that Celeste was a maleficar, he had left before she had seen it. Now Celeste stumbled backwards at the force of it. But when he looked back down at Solana his eyes were wide with emotion and he dropped onto his knees beside her, taking both of her hands in his. "Forgive me, please forgive me. You shouldn't have heard like that."

Through this whole exchange, the baby was silent, cradled in Celeste's arms.

Solana had known something was wrong. Babies weren't meant to be that still and silent. Yet she hadn't imagined _that_. A mage's worst nightmare, visited upon that innocent life. She couldn't breathe. Her chest was so tight it hurt. It felt like metal, twisted and jammed into the cavity where her heart should be, expanding with pressure, threatening to break through.

 _Lyrium._ It had to be the lyrium she'd taken at Adamant and in the Fade.

Deep breaths. She couldn't get in enough air.

It was her fault.

She'd poisoned her sweet child, ruining her life before she so much as took her first breath. She would never know love, never know happiness, never _dream_. Her life would be grey and numb. She was broken. Not only cursed with the Blight and a stunted life but broken.

Sorrow rose up like the swells of an ocean, and Solana sank down into it and felt herself drown.

Cullen wrapped her in his arms as she took huge gulps of air and hot tears wet her cheeks. Nothing he could do or say could comfort her. None of it even reached her. Her mind was that tempest she'd cast in the Fade, the one she'd fed with lyrium. Lyrium she'd taken _after_ she knew what she carried in her womb.

* * *

Voices drifted across Solana's consciousness. She'd eventually cried herself asleep, while Cullen held her and rocked her. Now she was lying flat, tucked up in bed. But he was still there, holding her hand.

She recognised the voices. Celeste and Fiona were telling him about the birth, but it was no version that she knew. In their version, they'd escorted her on a picnic to take her mind off what was happening in the Arbor Wilds. In their version there was no Red Templar plot, no bear, no unforgivable hubris. She'd gone into labour in a field of persistent autumn flowers.

"I should have been here," Cullen muttered, shouldering guilt that was purely hers.

"Stop this, Commander," Fiona said, on her other side.

"I should never have left her when she was so far along."

"There was nothing you could have done."

"You did help," Celeste said. There was a pause. "Your ring. The wedding ring. Health enchantment, wasn't it?"

"I'm not entirely sure."

"It saved her. It was the thing that made the difference between life and death."

Their voices dimmed again, exhaustion was pulling Solana back into sleep. But she knew that this, too was a lie. Fiona was what had made the difference between life and death. Fiona coming into the Fade to get her.

Why wouldn't they tell Cullen?

* * *

Banging on the door jerked Solana from sleep. Morning light was bright against her eyelids and Cullen's hand was still in hers.

The door opened with a reluctant creek and an unfamiliar voice announced, "The Inquisitor requires your presence in the war room."

"No." The voice was Cullen's, tired and taut. But the word did not sound like him.

Solana opened her eyes and squinted up at his face. He still hadn't shaved. His jaw was set.

"I'm sorry, Ser?"

"Tell him I said no. I'm not leaving her."

The messenger hovered by the doorway.

"I am not leaving her! He can have my commission for this if he wishes. I will not leave her side."

The messenger cleared his throat. "Very well, Ser."

The door closed, darkening the room.

Solana wanted to tell him he could go if he needed to, she didn't want to keep him from his duties, but before she could find her voice, he noticed her eyes were open and met her gaze with such fondness that it stole her breath. "Go back to sleep, Love." His tone was now kind and gentle. He bent and kissed her forehead and she drifted back to sleep, fingers entwined with his.

Urgent pounding on the door woke Solana again. It was a little later, going by the light.

Cullen rose to his feet as someone - Celeste? - opened the door. "I said, I'm not leaving her."

He must have been a frightening sight to anyone else. Her grisly soldier, guarding her.

"Cullen…" Max's voice. "It's Corypheus."

Solana came instantly wide awake, Cullen wiped a hand across his brow. "Of course it is. What now?"

"He's here."

She turned her head to look at the Inquisitor and at first all she could see was green. His hand was glowing bright as a torch. But after the shock of its brightness, she was able to make out Max's expression in the ethereal glow. His face was grim, his eyes were locked with her husband's. "He's returned to the Valley of Sacred Ashes. He's opened the sky once more. I must go face him before it's too late."

"Alone?" Cullen sounded more like himself. "Our forces, they're still returning."

Max nodded. "I know. It's better this way."

"The Wardens," Solana said. "I can order them…"

But Max shook his head. "No, he could use them. Besides they should stay, protect Skyhold."

"The archdemon," she insisted.

"It's no archdemon, it's a mimic. Morrigan believes she can defeat it."

Morrigan believed she could defeat anything, but Solana was still too weak to protest, too weak to help.

Max's attention moved to Cullen again. "I know you do not wish to leave Solana, but I must ask you… Skyhold is vulnerable. The people here must be protected."

"I understand."

* * *

Solana dreamed of the Battle of Denerim once again. The city burning, her armies scattered. Up on the tower, Urthemiel beat its mighty wings while darkspawn spilled through the streets.

She woke with a scream as Alistair plunged his sword into the archdemon's throat. Panting, drenched in cold sweat. Her child was staring up at her, nestled against her breast. The two of them were alone in a dim room. The fire had burned low and night had fallen.

Beyond the rapid patter of her heart, Solana could hear something else, a sound that seemed like it belonged in the dream. Screaming.

Her lethargic mind strung disparate thoughts together. Alone. Night. Screaming. Corypheus. Cullen somewhere out there. She smelled smoke but was it from the dying fire, or was it coming from outside?

She slipped her nightdress up over her bared breast and gathered her daughter into her arms. Heart pounding, stomach churning, Solana struggled to sit. If the castle had fallen, she needed to get away. _Protect her._ Weakness was not an option.

Her bare feet hit the cold floor, sending a shock of ice up her spine. She fought the spots that clouded her vision as she rose, the heaviness in her limbs. Holding the child in one arm, gripping the stone wall for support, she stumbled for the door. The drumbeat of panic rushing through her blood gave her strength she otherwise wouldn't have had.

She managed to grip the handle, force it down. She almost fell out of the door. Cold air slapped against her skin.

People clustered together along the battlements. Down in the courtyard, a procession of some sort. Solana blinked, struggling to make sense of it.

And there was Cullen, in his surcoat again, standing with the other members of the council as Max ascended the stairs to the main hall.

The baby started crying.

Everything else seemed to fall away. Solana stared at her infant daughter, suddenly as alien as the scene surrounding them. The baby's face was wrinkled, her mouth was a large square of anguish, her tiny pink tongue curled and uncurled as she yelled her displeasure.

At the sound of her cries, people turned. Celeste pushed through the crowds. "Maker, Solana. You shouldn't be up." She took the baby, slipped an arm around Solana's waist to help her.

As they retreated once again into the warm room, the baby quieted. The cold must have been enough of a physical discomfort to draw a reaction.

Celeste eased Solana back into bed as her tired mind made sense of what she'd seen. The gathering outside, Max back safe. It could only mean one thing.

"We won?" Solana asked. "Corypheus is gone?"

"Yes," Celeste confirmed. "He's gone."


	48. Heal

Cullen fussed. He fussed around the cot, he fussed around the bed, he fussed until Fiona threw him out to go get a wash and a shave and leave them in peace.

He returned a little later, sheepish and looking more like himself.

Everyone else was celebrating the Inquisition's victory, but Cullen cared only about his new family. "Is she getting enough food?" he'd ask again and again. And he'd mean either his wife or his daughter. "Should she be sleeping this much?" To which the answer was yes, for both.

Celeste watched from the armchair by the fire. She could see that the fussing annoyed Fiona. The Grand Enchanter started spending more and more time out of the room. But Celeste found it sweet. It was clear the Commander cared a great deal. Watching him almost thawed the cold that had encased her insides since she'd cast that spell.

Old magic, older than the Chantry. She'd remembered it not with her mind but with something else, some deep visceral part of her. She hadn't learned it from a demon, she'd been taught it by another mage in the Circle, but it still felt slick and chthonic. It still tasted like death.

"You did blood magic," Solana said one day when the two of them were alone together.

Celeste was hoping that she could hide the fact, or at least would never have to admit to it. Let Solana think Fiona had saved her with lyrium. But she should have realised that even half-conscious, Solana wasn't easy to fool.

She was finally strong enough to sit and she held the baby in her arms while it nursed. Her red hair was in a tight braid down her one shoulder to keep it out of the way. It made her look severe. Like a Chantry sister.

When Celeste didn't speak - couldn't speak - Solana looked at her with wide, sad eyes. "I've been trying to figure out how Fiona managed to find me, pull me back. But you didn't tell Cullen about that. You told him it was the ring. If it was lyrium, you would have told him the truth."

Celeste's heart rattled in her chest, her mouth was dry. "It _was_ the ring, partly. I saw it glow. It gave you the strength to follow after my strength… my strength ran out."

It was as good as an admission.

"You shouldn't have done it. You should have let me die."

Celeste's skin prickled with the bitterness in those words. She'd made a promise to Solana, a promise that she would never ever tap into those powers again. It was understandable that she was upset. But to say she'd rather die… "If I'd let you die, your child would have died too."

 _Your child._ She didn't have a name yet.

Solana frowned at her. "Would that have been so terrible?"

"What?" Celeste was too startled by the words to hide her horror. "Maker, Solana."

Solana's gaze cut to hers again. Hard, and sad. "What kind of life will she live, tell me? A stunted, cursed life. It's not really much life at all, is it? You should have let us both die. Rather than… than…" And her eyes were at once brimming with tears.

Celeste rose and went back to the fire, where a teapot was warming. She lifted it, not quite hot yet, and busied herself preparing tea for them. "You don't know what you're saying. Imagine what that would have done to the commander, arriving home to find you both gone."

Solana didn't respond. The silence was unbearable.

Celeste's hands trembled. She found herself unable to clasp the cups, so she set them down and stood staring at the steam twisting up from the kettle. "I realise you may never forgive what I've done. But I do not regret it. I would do it again."

When Solana remained uncommunicative, Celeste turned and found her quietly sobbing.

She was crying so hard that her shoulders were shaking. It was such a bizarre sight, seeing the fabled Hero of Ferelden like this, that Celeste stood frozen, completely uncertain what to do.

"I'm sorry," Solana wailed. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't know why I said that."

She drew the baby to her chest and wrapped both arms around her, gasping and hiccuping as tears flooded down her cheeks. It was like a mummer's portrayal of crying, action and sound all larger than life so that even those standing at a distance could recognise what was happening.

Celeste moved tentatively back to sit beside Solana. She reached out a hand, gingerly, to touch her shoulder. When Solana didn't pull away in disgust, she wrapped an arm around her. Solana leaned into her embrace, repeating her apology.

"Shh, it's alright," Celeste said, soothing her friend as she'd once soothed her son. "Shh."

Later that day, when the teacups were empty, the baby was asleep and the redness had finally gone from Solana's eyes and nose, Cullen stumbled in. His arms were laden with books, which he dumped unceremoniously at the foot of the bed, ignoring Celeste completely.

Solana arched an eyebrow while he stood panting, gathering breath to speak.

"Books," he said, eventually.

"That much I can see."

Solana was all cool humor. There was no sign of the wreck she'd been earlier. Was she truly feeling better, or was this a facade?

Cullen chuckled and his hands drifted down to his sword hilt. "They're… for research. I thought we might, well, we have time. But we might as well start now."

"Research…" she repeated slowly, frowning up at him.

Celeste's breath caught. She knew what he meant and she watched Solana's face, dreading the moment when she realised, expecting her to crumble.

Cullen sat down on the edge of the bed, dropping his voice. "I feel like I _need_ to _do_ something."

And there it was, recognition. Her gaze traveled down to her lap. "You're not going to find a cure to the Blight in a book, Cullen."

"No. Probably not. But once I have a base knowledge -"

"You'll be able to do what generations and generations of Wardens have failed to do?"

He swallowed, his brow furrowed. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, voice even quieter. "I need to _do_ something. Please."

Solana's look softened and she took his hand and squeezed it. A silent acknowledgement of their shared pain.

He drew a deep breath, then selected two books. "Which would you prefer to tackle first? 'In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of A Chantry Scholar?' or 'A History of the First Blight: Part Four'?"

"Part Four? What happened to the first three?" Solana asked.

The commander smirked. "This is the volume that talks about the Wardens." He handed it to Solana, weighing the other book in his other hand. "This one has a chapter on…" he cleared his throat. "On Tranquility."

Solana didn't react to the word. She opened the book on the Blight and started flipping through it. "I suppose I should learn what I can about the Wardens. I am their leader in the South after all."

"That you are." He was gazing at her as if he hadn't seen her in days and her eyes flicked up to his.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Did he sense some of the emotion she was hiding? Or was it just that he'd missed her while he'd been in the Wilds and still hadn't had his fill of her face? Celeste couldn't tell and a small sound from the bassinet beside her drew her attention. It wasn't a cry, not even a whimper. It was simply some sort of unconscious noise that came to the infant as instinctively as breath, a signal that she was awake.

Celeste gathered her up, an old habit from when she'd had a child who had been in need of comforting. But this one was disconcerting in her stillness. She gazed up at Celeste with eyes that struggled to focus. She stuck out her tongue and produced another sound.

"Is something the matter?" Cullen asked, rising to his feet and coming to check.

"No," Celeste reassured him. "Sometimes they just… oh."

"What is it?" He was instantly at her side, staring down at his daughter. For a moment the two of them had matching scowls. Then the baby's expression relaxed.

"Tell me, Commander. Have you had the honour of changing her yet?" Celeste asked. She knew he hadn't.

"Changing…" he trailed off as he realised what she meant and colour flooded to his cheeks. "No, I have not."

"Would you like to?"

His eyes widened. "I… er…" He scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't think…. Well, I didn't think it was _appropriate_ for me to…"

Solana started laughing and the sound of it flushed Celeste with relief. "Bring her here, I'll do it."

* * *

The old door creaked open. The lamps were lit and candlelight flickered across books and vials, casting long shadows. Anders, who was standing reading nearby, turned to smile at Celeste in greeting. But when his eyes landed on Solana, beside her, his expression froze.

Solana was tired and pale, but she'd insisted that Celeste bring her here.

"I want to _do_ something," she'd repeated Cullen's words. "I need to be involved in what Fiona's trying."

So they'd waited until Cullen started his evening inspection of the barracks and then Celeste had bundled the baby into a basket and wrapped Solana up warmly and helped sneak her down the dark corridors to this room.

Fiona, sitting at the desk, rose slowly to her feet. "Solana. How are you feeling?"

Solana wrapped her arms around herself. "I need you to show me. I need you to show me what you've found so far."

"Are you certain…" Fiona started, coming towards her.

Solana stumbled, her knees buckling as her strength gave out. Celeste managed to catch her and then Anders was at her other side, guiding her to the chair.

Fiona's eyes met Celeste's, but she said nothing as she patted Solana's shoulder and passed her her own half-finished cup of tea.

"You may not like everything I have to tell you," the Grand Enchanter said gently. "Perhaps it is best that you leave this side of things to us, gather your strength."

"Do you use blood magic?" Solana asked, plainly, and Celeste dared not breathe as she watched Fiona consider the response.

When none came readily, Solana set down the teacup. "I thought as much when I saw the books."

"It's not like you think," Anders said. "I don't hold with blood magic like what they did when they brought down the Circle. I never would." He had the decency not to look at Celeste. "Some of the spells we have tried come from Tevinter. Others are older than the Chantry."

Solana was very still. Then she chuckled and shook her head. "Morrigan said something similar to me once. Not evil. Just old. Still, I sacrificed Alistair's life to avoid it." She looked down at her nails, and Celeste noticed she'd bitten them to the quick. "I need you to show me."

"Very well."

Celeste's heart skipped, but she pressed herself into the shadows with the baby, determined not to interfere. It was Solana's right to know, even if Celeste couldn't trust what that knowledge would do to her.

Fiona spread open the large book where she'd been keeping notes. "I have been working on this problem for some time. There are a number of different routes I have investigated. Some are quite mundane. There is a plant, for instance, that cures mabari if it is fed to them before the taint takes proper hold in their blood. Toxic to people, unfortunately, but it might be possible there is a way to distill the essence of the-"

"I know the plant," Solana squinted at the page. "I… my mabari was cured using it. I was told it would kill a human, and would not be potent enough to cure them anyway."

Fiona nodded. "That is correct, but if we can establish what the active properties within the plant are, then maybe we might produce an antidote of sorts. This was the major subject of my study in the Circle."

She turned a few of the massive pages. "While I was with the Wardens, our efforts were focused more on things I might have come into contact with while in the Deep Roads that cured me. We looked into some ancient Warden rituals, dwarven artifacts. Unfortunately these proved difficult to replicate."

"Which is why you went to the Circle?" Solana guessed.

Fiona inclined her head again. "And after the Circle, Alexius wished for me to cure his son. Corypheus had promised as much, but I believe he doubted. If I had managed to find a cure, perhaps… perhaps." She drew a deep breath. "Well, the Inquisitor came along, and all is well that ended well in that regard." She forced a smile. "When I was with Alexius, he gave me access to his own research. He'd brought every spell, every book, every scroll, he thought might be helpful with him from Tevinter. One old scroll, for example, told the story of two lovers. When one was infected with the taint, the other gave his life, using a blood magic ritual to replace his lover's blood with his own."

"All of it?"

"That's what the story says."

Solana's eyes slid to the basket where her baby slept. "Would that my own blood was clean," she said softly, and a shiver chased down Celeste's spine.

Fiona turned another page, either oblivious of Solana's words or choosing to ignore them. "Most of Alexius's library was in ancient Tevene, so translation was slow. There are other rituals, cleansing charms and the like, that I have yet to try."

"Tell her about the mirror," Anders urged.

With a glance up at him, Fiona continued, "Anders had a friend who managed to cleanse a mirror of the taint."

Solana's attention moved instantly to Anders, but the mage shifted uncomfortably. "Fiona has been trying to figure it out but, uh, I don't know how to say this."

"It was with blood magic," Celeste provided. "The real sort. She spoke to a demon."

"Oh." Solana kept staring at Anders.

"For what it's worth, I didn't approve."

"And now you want to replicate what she did? Are you planning to…"

"What? Have a chat to a demon? No, thank you."

"It's not like possession's a worry for you," Solana pointed out.

Anders chuckled. "Depends. The demon might decide to challenge Justice for the real estate."

"Can that happen?"

He shrugged. "Not something I'm interested in discovering."

"Good."

Fiona cleared her throat. "Demons aside, I have been working to figure out what spell the girl used."

Celeste knew that Fiona had no intention of using lyrium when it came to testing her suppositions. It was too difficult to come by, too expensive. Blood was free, especially when provided willingly or taken from a Red Templar. But Solana didn't ask for clarification, she turned her attention from Anders, back to the book.

"There's another possibility," Fiona said. "I… heard a story about the descendants of reavers, how dragon's blood might provide some form of resistance. I'm not entirely certain how it works, but with the number of dragons that the Inquisitor has slain, I managed to gain access to a few vials to experiment with. That's what we've been using the majority of the samples of your blood that Celeste took for." She gestured to the shelves nearby.

"How do you test whether it's effective?" Solana wanted to know.

"Ah, that's something the ancient Grey Warden magic was useful for." Fiona took a vial off one of the shelves. "It is a spell similar to the one the Chantry uses in the creation of phylacteries. Except instead of glowing when the mage it belongs to is near, it glows when the taint is present in the blood. Would you like to see?"

Solana nodded and Fiona waved her hand across the vial. Celeste knew she was doing a complex incantation in her mind, but she seemed relaxed. The only muscles in her entire body that tensed were around her eyes as she pressed them closed.

At first it seemed that nothing was happening, but Celeste didn't dare hope. Then, sure enough, a delicate halo of green light started to throb around glass bottle and Fiona let out a breath. "Celeste, take that down please. Dragon's blood sample 14, unsuccessful."


	49. Gathering Storm

The castle was roused to much fanfare as the army started arriving back from the Wilds.

Hawke was the first of Solana's visitors. Still dirty from the road, as Cullen had been, and sporting a thick black beard, he grinned at the baby and pulled faces in a foolish attempt to make her laugh.

Anders was with him and he smiled quietly at Hawke's antics.

For a time Solana let herself pretend that her child was normal, that her waving arms and coos were more than just reflexes. That she was happy.

"What name did you land on?" Hawke wanted to know.

"Oh, I thought we'd agreed on Garrett," she answered him with an easy smile.

Hawke held the baby out in front of him, with one hand supporting her head. "I don't know. Looks more like a Garrettess to me. Garrettina? Garetta?"

Despite his humour, his eyes slid to hers and she saw his concern.

Ice welled in Solana's belly. Her child was two weeks old, but was yet to be named. The days since the birth had been blurs of grey despair. Sometimes she thought she had left a part of her in the Fade when she'd died, that not all of her had managed to make it back through the mousehole this time. It scared her. It scared her so much that she tried to avoid thinking about it, let alone voicing her fears.

Part of this was like mourning, the familiar sense of nothingness she'd lived with for all those years in the mountains. But part of it was colder, more bitter. Part of it was the writhing serpent of guilt that twisted in her chest whenever she gazed into her daughter's eyes. She'd been brought into the world premature, Blighted and Tranquil not because of bad luck, but because of Solana. That Cullen hadn't shown his anger and disappointment to her was a credit to his military training. She knew he had to be feeling it, hiding it perhaps because he was concerned about her health, or because he didn't want to face this uncertain future alone. And he didn't even know the worst of it. He didn't know what she'd done the night she'd gone into labour, or why. He didn't know what their plans had been, he didn't know that blood magic had saved her.

But he slept in his office now. The bed belonged to her and their cursed child, the room to the women who'd ensured their survival.

Hawke smiled gently. "Congratulations, Solana. She's beautiful."

Solana nodded and she caught Anders's expression as he hovered in the doorway behind Hawke. His fingers fidgeted and his large eyes watched Hawke with a sorrow that resonated with her own. Not a happy reunion, then. Too much unsaid. No letters exchanged, perhaps, in the time Hawke had been gone. Or, maybe, a cool greeting upon his return when Anders had expected more.

"It's thanks to Anders that we're both here," she said.

Anders started. He, too, had a mask of humour that he slipped into place the moment he knew he was being watched. "Well, you know me, full package. Grey Warden, most wanted apostate, healer and midwife."

Hawke chuckled. It sounded forced. "The first time I met him, he was elbow-deep in delivering a baby."

"Second time," Anders corrected him. "First was healing a ruptured spleen."

"Ah, yes," Hawke didn't look at him. "Second time, then. There was so much blood I almost fainted. Anders had these black bags under his eyes. He'd been up all night, for multiple nights in a row, when this woman came in. Refugee, no money, so the midwife wouldn't see her and there were _complications_. So Anders attempted it hopped up on nothing but strong tea and lyrium. His hands were shaking so hard, I'm surprised he managed to cut the cord. Of course I didn't see that part. I was already in the Hanged Man having a stiff drink."

Hawke was babbling, filling what might well have become an awkward silence. It was heartbreaking to see.

She wanted to tell Hawke how Anders had come to her rescue, taken on that bear single-handedly, how he had held her shivering form until she'd been able to breathe again. But that didn't fit with the narrative they'd decided on.

"Did the baby live?" she asked instead.

"'Course she did. Anders is the best healer there is," Hawke said and Anders's face lit up at the compliment.

* * *

Cullen drew another deep breath and flipped the page. No matter how many times he sighed, the tightness in his chest didn't seem to dissipate. It was like a cold fist being driven into his sternum slowly, over a period of hours. Nothing eased it. Not warm tea, or distraction, or going to visit his beautiful daughter and staring into her fathomless eyes. When he held her, it felt like his life had purpose. Every tiny movement and reaction filled him with wonder. But with it came that helplessness, that itching feeling in his palms, the slamming heartbeat, and the fear. He sought to be strong, like Solana was strong. She'd cried her tears and now she moved forward. Where she was calm and nurturing, he was a fraught bundle of anxieties. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. She was right, the books wouldn't help. But they kept his mind occupied.

A rap on the door made him jump. Cursing himself, he bid whomever enter.

Cassandra poked her head around the door. "Is it an inconvenient time? I could return later."

"No." He rose to his feet, pulling his surcoat straight and forcing a smile. "Welcome back. I assume all is well?"

She nodded. "I was surprised you weren't present to greet your troops upon their return."

Was she chastising him? It was always difficult to tell where the seeker was concerned. Every second thing she said sounded like chastisement.

"I'm certain they preferred being welcomed back by their families."

She strode in, gaze travelling over the stacks of books that covered every available surface, but she did not comment on them. Instead she said, "It is unlike you."

"I had other matters to attend to." The words were more defensive than he'd intended.

"Such as?" she arched an eyebrow and he bristled at the implication. He was on the edge of telling her to mind her own business when she leaned over and picked up the book he'd been reading. "Genitivi? Well forgive me, I should have realised. Familiarity with the history of Thedas is much more important than the wellbeing of your men."

"Now hold on a minute -"

She rested her hands flat on the desk. "You up and left them. Without so much as a word."

So that's what this was about. "I knew you'd take command."

"That's hardly the point."

"I was needed here, Cassandra. Solana… Solana very nearly died. And our child, too. Do you want me to admit I acted irrationally? Very well, I admit it. I have never been so terrified in all my life. Our fighting was done. I was needed here."

"That, perhaps I could understand," she said. "But now your negligence continues."

"Negligence? Corypheus is dead."

"But your men are still here. You are still their leader. Or are you not? Did you resign while I was not aware? Become a scholar?" She tossed the book back onto the table. It flipped open on the chapter he'd been reading and rereading and rereading.

"Perhaps I should," he said, the fight going out of him. "Perhaps you should take over from me here."

The earnestness in his tone must have caught Cassandra off guard. She was silent a long moment and Cullen continued to stare down at the book.

"What happened, Cullen? Your wife and child live. Yet, you are not the man I recruited, the man who blazed with inner purpose."

It occurred to him that it was possible she didn't know. If she had only just returned, perhaps the gossip hadn't reached her yet. He pushed the book across the table to her, finding himself unable to say the words.

"I do not understand," Cassandra said.

"Read it."

"What part of it?"

He waved his arm, indicating that it didn't matter. She lifted the book again and started reading out loud. "The name is a misnomer, for they are not _Tranquil_ at all; rather, they are like inanimate _objects_ that speak." Her eyes flicked up to his. "You're researching Tranquility?"

"I gave her lyrium. The night of the ball in Halamshiral. I didn't know - neither of us did - at the time. But, well, it had an effect. I suspect that was not the last she took it. The demands of Adamant… I know there was lyrium on the manifest." He tore at his hair. "Either way, I played a part."

"Cullen… what are you saying?"

What was he saying? "I'm saying that you are correct, I have been negligent. But not of my duties to the Inquisition. No, never to my duties. You would think I would have learned by now, wouldn't you? I should have discerned... Perhaps there was something that could have been done while she was still in the womb…" Cassandra covered her mouth. Realising he was raving, he took another deep, useless breath. "I said vows. I promised to be her shield, and in that I have already failed."

"Are you… the child is Tranquil? I didn't… certainly that is not possible."

"Well, in that case, please inform my daughter." He ran a hand through his hair, immediately regretting his sarcasm. "It's not just that. She also carries the taint. And -"

"Carries the taint?" Cassandra interrupted. "Is she, you're not saying she's Blightsick?"

"No, thankfully not. As far as I understand she carries it like her mother carries it. It strengthens her, offers a level of immunity." _But it also shortens her life_ , he added silently even as he pushed the thought away and circled back to his previous point. "That aside, she visited the Fade in the flesh while she was still in the process of forming. Her situation is no doubt quite unique. I certainly haven't found anything about it in Genitivi."

"And do you have evidence that it is indeed Tranquility?"

"Evidence?" He snorted. "How does one find evidence of such a thing?"

Cassandra's look was hard. "I'm asking how you can be certain."

"She doesn't cry."

"And you believe that makes her Tranquil?"

"If you don't believe me, perhaps you should go and meet her." His voice rose at Cassandra's implication. "Perhaps you should go and hold her and stare into her blank eyes. Hold her to your chest, Cassandra, and observe no reaction -"

"Cullen, stop."

"No. If you don't believe me -"

"It' s not that I don't believe you -"

"- If you don't believe she's Tranquil, then go _look at her_."

"It's that I needed to be certain -"

"See how plainly she feels _nothing_."

"There's a cure!" Cassandra shouted over him. That brought him up short. The air was knocked out of his lungs and he stood staring at her.

"What?"

She waved away her statement with both hands. "It's not workable yet, it's not a solution _yet_."

He moved around the desk, his legs working of their own accord, closing the space between them. "Cassandra…"

"Please, Cullen -"

"Tell me. Tell me what you know."

Her gaze met his, her eyebrows upturned in pity, and she swallowed. The silence rang in Cullen's ears after his outburst. She turned from him and he thought she wouldn't speak as she ran a hand through her hair.

"Do you recall when Max and I went to find the missing Seekers?"

"Yes." He hardly dared to breathe too hard.

"Well, we found more than Seekers. We found secrets. Dark secrets about the past of the Order. One such secret was the cure to Tranquility. It has… it has always been known. Tranquility was developed by my Order, not as a punishment but as an an … initiation." She swallowed again. "But the cure is not simple… at least not yet. Perhaps in a few years, after I've rebuilt the Order..."

He reached out and grabbed her arm. "Tell me, please…"

"Cullen, I assure you. It is better that you do not know."

"How can you possibly _say_ that?"

She pressed her eyes closed. "What is the very worst cure you could imagine?"

He was startled by that, but the first thought that came to mind was oddly humorous, considering. "Well, I know it's not the taint."

"No, not the taint. Worse than the taint."

"It's possession." An unfamiliar woman in dirty Grey Warden garb was standing framed in the doorway and Cassandra's attention immediately snapped to her.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

But she took no notice of Cassandra. Her cool, grey eyes fixed on Cullen. "Where might I find Solana?"

He was still reeling from what she'd said. "Possession?" he repeated numbly.

The woman inclined her head. He looked to Cassandra for confirmation. Her hands were opening and closing, fisting and unfisting. "I don't know who you are, but you better have an explanation as to how you came by this knowledge."

So it was true. Cassandra's voice seemed to recede, like he was hearing her from beneath water. He had to reach forward to steady himself on the desk. _Possession_ … how was that a cure? Becoming an abomination in order to feel?

It wasn't a cure at all.

"I heard about the baby. I want to help," the woman was saying.

" _You_ heard about the baby?" Cassandra sounded incredulous. After all, she'd only just found out herself.

"I don't recognise you," Cullen said. She was human with curly brown hair. By her stature, he'd peg her as a mage. He hadn't worked with the Grey Warden mages personally, but he'd watched Solana training them often enough that he knew them by face if not by name. This woman, he couldn't recall ever meeting.

"My name's Cassey. I've… I've been away. Please, I need to speak with Solana. I want to help. I'm a… a friend."

A number of disparate thoughts aligned themselves in Cullen's mind. _Away, friend, Warden, Cassey._ And Cullen knew who the woman must be. His eyes dropped automatically to her hands, where she was twisting a ring. Solana had told him the story.

"Of course," he gestured to the door.

"Commander!" Cassandra snatched his elbow. "Who is this woman? I'd like to know how she knows what she knows. Are you certain you can trust her?"

"If _you_ are uncertain, you should accompany us," Cullen said, gently detaching her. "You can meet my daughter."

* * *

"I was starting to worry Hawke would never leave," Anders said, "Your child had him completely enraptured."

Solana smiled, but the expression must have come out as more of a grimace because he immediately added, "Are you alright? "

They were moving quietly towards the kitchens. The smell of baking bread permeated the frigid air, giving it the impression of warmth.

"It's nice to be out of that room," she said, avoiding answering. In truth she still felt a little unsteady, but she knew that Fiona needed more blood in order to continue her experiments, and Anders had finally declared her strong enough to provide it. She didn't want him to change his mind.

"The walls starting to close in on you?" he asked. "Ah, I know that feeling all too well." They reached a flight of stairs and he took her arm to help her. "After one of my escapades trying to escape the Circle, they locked me in solitary for a year."

Solana almost tripped over her feet. "A year?" She examined his face, but he seemed more amused than anything.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard the stories, many claim that's when I went insane, lost my mind." He rolled his eyes.

Cullen was probably one of those people. "And did you?" Solana asked, frankly. "Lose your mind?"

A soft smile graced Anders's lips. "No. I lost _patience_."

* * *

Even in the warm light from the sconces, the research room seemed cold and malevolent. Fiona sat at the table, pouring over one of her Tevinter blood magic volumes by candlelight. She rose when they entered and bid Solana take a seat.

It was more of a relief than she wanted to admit to be able to sit down. Fiona knelt beside her and took her hand.

"I'm going to go check on… things." Anders said.

"Things?" Solana asked.

Fiona flashed a sly smile. "It will be revealed in time. When we're done here perhaps, if you have the energy for it."

"Will you be alright?" Anders asked, the question directed at Solana. But it was Fiona who answered.

"If she faints, I will call you."

When Solana didn't stop him, Anders left, shutting the door behind him. Solana heard a lock turn and her heart leapt. She fought down rising panic. She'd come here of her own volition. They were on the same side. She had nothing to fear from Fiona, despite what she was about to do.

The enchanter wet Solana's hand with alcohol, sending a shock of cold up Solana's arm.

"There's no need to be nervous," Fiona said, but the flash of a lancet belied the words. "It's no different from when they took your blood for your phylactery."

Solana had to look away and swallow down bile as Fiona made her incision. "I don't remember them making my phylactery."

"Oh?"

Solana risked a glance at the vial as Fiona pressed it to her palm. Scarlet blood dripped down the glass neck, slowly pooling black at the base of the container.

Fiona's pale green eyes flickered up, then back down at her task. "You must have been very young when they took you. I was already in my early adolescence. I was terrified. I expected them to kill me."

" _Kill_ you, why?"

"Because I had murdered a man." Fiona smiled benignly. "Oh don't worry. He was a vile man, and he deserved it."

When Solana continued to stare at her, uncertain what to say, Fiona added, "He was my _master_. A sadist."

Master? She was a slave? "But… slavery's illegal." She felt stupid the instant she said it.

"Yes, but if you are wealthy enough, you can do what you wish."

 _Wealthy…_ unbidden, the vision Solana had had in the Fade came back to her. A woman chained to the ground, her back torn open. A man in full armour with long blond hair, driving his sword through the chest of a nobleman.

"Maric saved you?" Solana asked hesitantly.

Fiona started. Her eyebrows drew together, and then realisation seemed to dawn and she laughed. "No. In reality I saved myself. Or, my powers manifested. What you saw in the Fade was a reflection created by a demon. Something that happened many years later, while we were traversing the Deep Roads."

"On your 'fool's errand'?"

"Yes."

Another image teased at Solana's memory. "There was another vision… you, with a… a baby. But not my baby." The hair had been wrong. "Was that also a dream?"

"No."

Fiona focused on Solana's hand and it was impossible to tell her mood. Had the question upset her?

"What… what happened?" Solana ventured.

"He died."

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Solana was struck speechless. She had expected that Fiona had been unable to raise the child, that he had perhaps been taken away by the Chantry, but not _that_ , not something so awful. Had it been the Blightsickness? If what she had said about Warden children and the taint was true, Fiona's child would have been tainted too. Solana wanted to know but she was too embarrassed to ask.

"I.. I'm sorry, I -"

"He died during the Blight," Fiona said, cutting off Solana's stammering.

 _That recent?_

A ghost of a smile flitted across Fiona's lips. "He died striking the killing blow to the archdemon," she said.

* * *

Cullen rapped gently on the door of their quarters, then pushed it open. The room was warm and dim as always, except the bed was empty.

"Commander!" Celeste scrambled to her feet, from where she'd been sitting in her customary spot by the fire. She had the baby in her arms. Solana was absent.

"I'm looking for my wife," he said dumbly. Because she should be here, she hadn't left this room since she'd had the baby.

"She... " Celeste hesitated. "She went out to get some air."

"Air?"

Celeste's hesitation was suspicious and something tightened in his chest.

"It _is_ a bit stuffy in here," Cassandra commented. She'd followed him in.

"Any idea where she went?" Cullen asked. Celeste's eyes darted to the door and his heart gave a small leap. He knew that whatever she said next would be a lie, so he didn't give her the opportunity. "I'll go look for her, thank you."

He turned smartly and swept past Cassandra, who voiced some kind of protest he didn't hear past the roaring in his ears. Where was Solana that it had to be a secret? What was Celeste hiding?

Someone grabbed his arm and he thought it was Cassandra, he was in the process of shaking her off when he found it to be Cassey, blinking up at him in the bright sunlight beyond the room.

"I'm a Warden."

"So you've said."

She smirked. "I'm a Warden. Warden senses, remember? I can find her."


	50. Tempest

Author's note: Not claiming any of this is canon, it's just *my* canon ;) file under headcanon/fan-theory or even alt universe if ya like :)

* * *

Silence hung thick in the dim, dank room as Solana tried to make sense of Fiona's words.

"Alistair struck the killing blow," she said.

Fiona nodded, pale eyes meeting Solana's. "When you came to seek me in Haven, I was under the impression you knew. I thought perhaps Duncan might have told him."

"But… but you're an elf?"

She didn't mean to put it so bluntly, but Fiona took it in her stride. "The human side always wins out."

"Goldana… his sister…. We _met._ Alistair's mother was a washer woman. She left him an amulet." She was just saying things, things she'd understood to be true, things that didn't fit what Fiona was saying. It didn't make _sense_.

"Andraste's Flame was it?" Fiona asked with a sad smile. "It was a gift, from my Warden Commander. I hoped Maric would give it to him."

 _So it was true._ Solana's heart clenched, a physical ache that surpassed the numbness that had grown over her in recent weeks.

"He longed for a family." Solana's voice was on the edge of breaking. "You should have _told_ him." Where was Fiona, during the Blight? Where was her power and her protection when her son needed her?

Fiona looked away, drawing a deep breath. "I was a Warden when he was conceived, Solana."

And at first the weight of the words was lost on her. _So what? She couldn't abandon her Warden vows to save her son?_

Then realisation dawned. It was as cold as Fiona's eyes and as bitter as elfroot.

 _All Warden children are born with the taint._

Her heart kicked and she sucked in air. She snatched her hand away from the vial. "He would have known." Flashes of memory came to her. Alistair talking about the rabid hunger that had assaulted him when he was first Joined. The dreams. "He would have known," she repeated.

"He did not know, nor did Maric. The only person who knew was Duncan and he swore to me when I left the Wardens that, should I still not have a cure by the time Alistair came of age, he would recruit him. And he would use the Right of Conscription if need be."

She was making an awful sense. He _had_ needed to use the Right of Conscription to free Alistair from the Chantry, from a life as a Templar. Alistair had always wondered why.

Fiona held the vial of Solana's blood up to the light. "My research indicated that the full effects of the taint would only trigger in his blood when he came of age. If he was recruited before, he would be none the wiser. He would survive his Joining because he already carried the immunity." Fiona swallowed. "And he would continue to be none the wiser for… well… as long as it took."

"As long as it took him to _die_?" The pain in Solana's chest seemed to explode outwards in hot anger. "You thought your child was doomed so you… you abandoned him. And then you… you gave him over to the Wardens hoping that he would die heroically and never know he was cursed? You didn't even have the courage to _tell_ him?" Her thrumming pulse threatened to drive her from the room. But Anders had locked the door, ostensibly to keep unwelcome guests out. She was trapped.

"I left the Wardens to try find a _cure_. But when I saw conditions in the Circles, I couldn't… I couldn't just let things be that way. I fought too many separate battles and I ran out of time."

" _No._ Alistair ran out of time."

 _Alistair running towards the archdemon..._

But if he hadn't... Thirty years. Alistair would have heard the Calling with the other Wardens, only his would have been _real_. Because Fiona _hadn't_ found a cure, she'd started a revolution. She'd chosen the mages over the fate of her own child.

"You are right." Fiona bowed her head. "You are right. My son ran out of time. But your daughter will not. I swear to you. I will do whatever is necessary to find this cure for you and for her. In another life… another time. Perhaps…" Whatever Fiona was going to say, she let the sentence drop. "This should be enough blood for the latest round of tests. I'm hesitant to take more, considering."

Considering Solana could hardly walk without assistance as it was. Just like that, Fiona had switched back to the task at hand, even though Solana's veins were thrumming with fire.

The enchanter held out a hand expectantly, but Solana stared at it, unable to guess what she meant by the gesture. Only when Fiona reached over and gently took her hand, did Solana remember her bloody palm. A throb of warm magic ran across her skin, like placing her hand in tepid water. And then the skin was closed and Fiona was carefully wiping away the remaining blood.

"You've been looking into a cure for years. With the Wardens, at the Circle, at Livius's insistence. With all of their resources, with all of that time… what makes you think you'll find a cure now?"

Fiona didn't get a chance to answer. A key twisted in the lock and Anders stuck his head around the door. "I'm afraid it's a no go with your latest concoction, but he's out cold if you want to perform introductions. Although we should hurry. The little one's going to need a feed soon."

"Well that would have been too much to ask." Fiona rose gracefully. "Still, I would like to see the effects for myself. Perhaps there is something you have not noticed."

It was as if Solana ceased to exist. Fiona pocketed the vial of blood and fired a volley of questions at Anders. He answered each one promptly with the confidence of a professional. None of them made sense to Solana, but she wasn't really paying attention. She was thinking, remembering, putting pieces together.

Anders went on ahead and Fiona reached to help Solana up.

"You were cured when you were in the Deep Roads," she said.

Fiona inclined her head, her eyebrows drawing together in puzzlement.

"That's when you knew Maric." Hadn't she just said as much?

Fiona blanched, and nodded again.

"Oh, Maker." The air was suddenly very thin. Fiona took Solana's hand again, steadying her. "Alistair was the last of the Theirin line… they kept telling me about the blood but I wouldn't listen. Eamon, Morrigan. They all kept telling me his blood was important. You were cured. You carried a Theirin child and you were cured."

"Solana." Fiona squeezed her hand, and touched her cheek, forcing her to look into her face. "Solana, that doesn't mean all hope is lost."

"Doesn't it?" her voice was little more than a squeak.

"The Qunari have a tale about Calenhad, about how he got his strength. He drank dragon's blood."

 _Dragon's blood._ Fiona had mentioned hearing a tale about a reaver who could cure the Blight. Is that what she had meant?

"If we can isolate what it was about the blood that gave Calenhad his power, we can replicate it. Please, do not lose hope."

* * *

They moved through a series of dark corridors that Solana would never have been able to recognise. But Anders led the way confidently, while Fiona's staff provided light . A tense silence surrounded them and everything Solana had learned in the last hour echoed in her head. At one point they had to climb over rubble and Solana's head swam. Anders had to hold her steady.

"Perhaps it's too soon for this," he said quietly to Fiona.

The enchanter only frowned.

Shortly after that, Anders halted suddenly.

"What? What is it?" Fiona wanted to know

In the dim glow of the staff, it might have been anything. He turned slightly to his right, stuck out his hand. He was little more than a shadow and Solana couldn't make out his features.

"Seems we're not the only ones hiding things down here." His hand hovered over the wall.

And Solana realised with a flash of cold terror where they were. The phylacteries.

"I thought I felt this earlier," he said. "Warding. Strong."

Fiona stretched out her own hand to feel. "You're correct."

"We should probably move along," Solana suggested. If Fiona discovered the phylacteries, she would destroy them. Solana had no doubt. She watched helplessly as Fiona's hand travelled along the wall.

"You feel that?" Anders asked under his breath. "It's pushing us away."

"Very impressive spellwork."

There was nothing for it. "Thank you," Solana said. That drew the enchanter's attention. Solana felt more than saw her focus shift to her. She shrugged nonchalantly. "It's mine. The spellwork. We should move long."

"Oh, now this is interesting." She could hear the smile in Anders's voice. "What are you hiding? Does Cullen know?"

Dancing around the subject would only raise more questions. "It's a gift. To the Inquisition. From the queen."

"The _queen_? What sort of gift?" Anders prompted.

"A _secret_ gift." Solana started moving forward, hoping that the others would follow her lead.

"But now you need to tell us." She heard Anders trotting after her.

"No, I don't."

"You can't leave us in suspense."

"Yes, I can."

"Is it a _weapon_? Is it _valuable_?"

"I am relieved the queen is on good terms with the Inquisition again," Fiona commented softy. There was a note in her voice that seemed to question the fact, but Solana didn't pursue it.

Instead she said, "I'm feeling weak, I think we should move along."

That brought Anders to her side, with a quick apology. He glanced back over his shoulder one more time as they resumed their walk.

They came to a door, which Anders opened, letting in blinding white light and a rush of cold air. Solana followed him outside, along a narrow walkway on the cliff side of the castle. Wind tore at her hair and stung her cheeks. And then they were climbing inside again, through a hole in one of the thick stone walls. Anders lifted Solana over this obstacle with strength his slight frame didn't show.

She found herself in the ruined part of the gaol.

Solana recognised the guard standing watch as the Warden she'd sent back to the cart _that_ night.

"You've met Edmond," Anders introduced him smoothly. "When Celeste came here to chat to Livius, she was able to use her magic to sneak in. We needed a more reliable system."

Solana was about to ask what they were doing in the gaol when she heard a groan from one of the cells. A dark shape stirred and Anders swore. "I was hoping he'd be out longer."

Fiona moved slowly towards the prisoner. "If we're correct about red lyrium having a similar effect to the taint, he may have superior constitution."

Anders snatched her arm. "We shouldn't do this now."

For a second, the mage's eyes showed hesitation, then she shook her head. "We'll be quick."

She tilted her head for Solana to join her and they approached the cell. Curled up on his side, with his knees to his chest, was a pale man. He had dark rings beneath his eyes, a receding hairline and the smatterings of a black beard. He groaned again, showing a line of skew and yellowing teeth. He was in obvious pain.

"Solana," Fiona said softly, "I'd like you to meet Raleigh Samson, our Red Templar."

She turned to Fiona, feeling the blood drain from her face. "This is Samson? The leader of the Red Templars?" Cullen's one-time friend. He'd tried so hard to find him before they marched on the Wilds, but had been unsuccessful.

"The very same," Anders said. "Hawke tells me he showed a resistance to red lyrium, which makes him… promising."

He looked smaller than she'd imagined and oh so very human.

"What do you plan to do to him?" she asked.

"We intend to find a cure for the Blight." Anders's voice was right at her ear. Her stomach twisted.

There was a noise at the door from the gaol proper and Fiona spun as it clanged open.

Solana's breath left her as she saw the new arrival. Cullen. Cullen stood framed in the doorway, Cassandra at one elbow, Cassey at the other.

He didn't seem surprised to find her there. He seemed angry.

For a moment, no one moved. Then Cullen cleared his throat. "I hear the air down in the dungeon is the best sort. Fresh, clean."

There was a chill to his tone that Solana hadn't heard since the day she'd voted for Anders to join the Inquisition. He moved into the room, eyes never leaving hers.

If he'd been a mage, the air around him would have been sparking. It said a lot that Cassandra hung back, tight-lipped. He came to a halt in front of Solana. "If I ask you what you're doing here, will you tell me the truth?"

She opened her mouth, closed it. His gaze was unwavering.

"Fiona and I thought it would be good for her to take a walk," Anders said.

Cullen's gaze shot to Anders and the force of it silenced him.

"That's your story?" Cullen's attention rested on Solana again. "You just decided to take a walk, down to the gaols, for your health?"

"Is that so unreasonable?" This time it was Fiona who spoke for her. "Commander, I must say this attitude of yours is most concerning. Is your wife not permitted to leave her room without your say so? We thought she might find your new prisoner intriguing."

Cullen opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut off by hollow laughter. None of them had been watching Samson. He'd come to full consciousness, and was struggling to sit. "Wife? Well I never, Rutherford." He laughed again. His laughter sounded like broken glass.

"Shut up," Cullen snapped.

"Ain't this just the picture. You got yourself a pretty little wife, and now you're trying to control her like you try to control everything else." He clutched at his side and winced. "I'd run if I were you, Solana, was it?"

He'd heard her name. How long had he been conscious? He peered up at her with narrowed red eyes. They looked dry and painful. "Wait a minute, _the_ Solana. Ahh things are starting to make sense. Solana the Hero and Anders the Champion's toy."

Cullen slammed a hand against the bars of Samson's cell, and the resultant _clang_ was almost enough to drown out Samson's laughter, but not quite. "You know he swings both ways, don't you, Rutherford? The stories I could tell… what ever happened to Isabella?"

"Commander!" Cassandra rushed forward, seizing the hand that Solana hadn't even noticed was on the way to his sword. "Whatever is happening here, we have other business. _Remember_?"

He stared at her as if she'd stepped out of the Void, then swallowed and nodded slowly, coming back to himself. "Your friend Cassey wishes to speak to you, Solana." He didn't look at her.

"Cullen…" She wanted to reassure him, needed to. If he thought she was having some kind of affair with Anders…

But he cut her off, "We should not speak here."


	51. Cone of Cold

Up in Cullen's office, silence loomed. Even the sunbeams streaming through the hole in the roof couldn't ease the chill. Cullen's jaw was set and he paced. Cassandra leaned against the desk, Anders hovered by the exit, while Fiona took up a position in front of the bookshelf, with her staff slung over her shoulder and her arms folded. Solana stood with Cassey in the middle of the room.

Cassey's eyes kept darting between her and Cullen until eventually he snapped, "You said you could help. You wanted to speak to my wife, now she's here. Or did you want to get her alone?"

Solana could almost hear the next words. Some kind of sarcastic remark about how she was so popular today, or getting her alone seemed to be the current trend. But this was Cullen and he bit his tongue.

"I… eh…" Cassey swallowed.

"Go on," Solana prompted gently. She would deal with Cullen later. _Somehow_.

Cassey drew a breath. "I was in Rainesfere when I heard. There was talk about you. And the baby. They said she's… she carries the taint. Is that true?"

Solana nodded, trying to keep emotion out of it.

Cassey wrung her hands. "Thing is, remember I told you that Falin was researching? Always researching…" A sad smile flickered across her lips. "He was researching the Blight. That was his primary area of study. I think he was getting somewhere… I think he found something. Towards the end, he became feverish in his work. Even as they rioted and burned books around him, he carried on working… I think, I think there might have been… I don't know what he found. But whatever it is, it might still be there."

"In your Circle?" Cullen asked.

Cassey nodded. "I heard they've all been looted, but perhaps a few scrolls hidden at the back of a shelf… I know where he kept his research."

"And which was your Circle?" Cullen wanted to know.

Anders's chuckle drew Cullen's glare. He pressed away from the door, "Kinloch, right?"

Cullen stood frozen. Only his jaw twitched.

"Do I know you?" Cassey asked.

"No, I don't think so. But I know Falin. Elf, right? He and I had to mop the halls together a few times. He kept sneaking down to the library when he shouldn't. It's lucky they didn't accuse him of blood magic. Whatever happened to him?"

Cassey's eyes darted to Solana, but she didn't answer.

"I'll go," Solana said.

"Don't be ridiculous," Cullen waved away her statement with a sharp gesture of his arm.

"Why is it ridiculous?" She challenged, "I know Kinloch, I'm accustomed to travel, and I -"

"Because you're a _mother_ now, or did you forget?"

There was no warmth in his eyes as he turned his glare on her, finally looking at her, finally meeting her eyes.

"Of course I didn't forget. She'll be fine without me for a few weeks. We can get a nurse."

"I'll not have you -"

"I'm not your _property_."

"No, you're my wife! And you're the mother of my child and I'll not have you gallivanting across the countryside while -"

"Gallivanting? _Curing her._ I caused this. We _both_ know it. I should be the one to cure it!"

They'd grown closer with each shouted word, yelling loud enough to be heard beyond the stone walls. Now Solana found herself glaring up into his face, breathing heavily. She was at once aware of their audience.

"Perhaps we should leave," Fiona suggested softly.

Cullen swallowed, tore his gaze away from Solana and raked a hand through his hair. "Yes, that might be best."

Slowly, the room emptied. As Cassey turned, Cullen cleared his throat. "Thank you. Sorry. We'll…"

"No, don't worry. I'll… I'll go settle in. No doubt you'll be able to find me with the other Grey Wardens."

He nodded confirmation. And then she was gone and Solana was alone with him.

He moved away from her, putting the desk between them. She thought he was going to collapse into his chair, speak to her from there as if she was one of his recruits delivering a report. But he rested his palms on the wooden surface and hung his head.

Silence returned to the room. Solana's eyes roamed. She took in the piles of books, the pages of scrawled notes. And beyond these recent additions, more familiar sights. The ink stains on the carpet from _that_ day, the day they'd said their vows, the blanket draped over the chair that she'd brought in one night when she'd woken to find him absent. She'd suspected she'd find him asleep at his desk, and she had.

Had he really been sleeping upstairs in his old loft? Or had he not been sleeping at all?

"I know what you were doing," he said, startling her. The anger had drained from his voice. He sounded defeated.

"If you're about to accuse me of doing _anything_ with Anders…" she started.

"You guided them to the phylacteries."

It was such an unexpected conclusion that it took Solana a moment to grasp it. "You think I brought the instigator and the leader of the mage rebellion to where I helped you hide the phylacteries?"

"Don't. Please." He seemed tired. "Don't try to deny it. I saw you."

" _Saw_ me?"

"Your friend Cassey... When you weren't in our room, I sought you out. She could sense you in that corridor. We tracked your progress from above ground."

To the gaol where he'd found them.

He rose his head to look at her. "Please, don't do me the disservice of lying to me."

"I'm not lying to you."

"Solana -"

"I didn't take them to the phylacteries."

He tore away from the desk. "Maker, Solana! I trusted you with this! I know you are loyal to the mages but I thought - I'm your husband - I thought -"

"Cullen!" She couldn't bear it, seeing him like this, thinking she'd betrayed his trust. There was nothing for it. "Cullen, we weren't after the phylacteries!"

His eyes met hers again and the anguish, the hurt, in his gaze tore at her heart.

"We were after a _cure_ ," she said.

"A cure?" His voice was flat with disbelief, or surprise.

She nodded, hugging herself to stop from shaking. This would need courage she didn't have, strength she didn't feel.

"If you were seeking a cure, why would you hide it from me?" he asked. "Celeste… she was so nervous of me. Why?"

It would only take five words to explain everything, five words and he'd connect the dots and the conclusions he would leap to would cover the truth and then some. _You know what Celeste is._

But she didn't say those words, she bit her tongue. She owed Celeste more than that.

"It is best that you see," Solana said.

Cullen followed her along the dark corridor without saying anything.

He hadn't asked questions, not even when she'd gone to Celeste and demanded her key. The woman had been startled, doubtful, but had fished in her pocket and handed it over.

"This is the real reason Anders is here," Solana said, to break the tense silence. "Celeste wrote to him many times. She wanted his assistance with finding a cure. For me. He refused until he learned I was pregnant. It turns out, Warden babies always carry the taint. I wish someone had told me that. I might have…" she swallowed. "Anyway, he, Celeste and Fiona have been quietly researching cures since then."

"How long have you known?" Cullen asked, voice thick.

"I stumbled upon their efforts while you were in the Wilds."

"And you agreed to help them?"

"I did."

They reached the door to the strange library. Solana drew a deep breath, hoping Fiona hadn't already returned. This would be hard enough as it was.

"I still don't understand why you hid this from me." It was difficult to see Cullen's face in the dense shadows, but she could hear the hurt.

"You're about to."

She inserted the key in the lock, then paused. This was a mistake, bringing him here. A thousand worst case scenarios tumbled through her mind. She recalled the way he'd been with Celeste when he'd discovered her past. What would he do to her if he found out it wasn't necessarily in her past? And Anders… what was to stop Cullen going straight to Hawke? Or Max?

She shook her head. She'd made her decision. She thought of the books piled around his office, the notes, the sad blanket draped over his chair. She thought of the way he'd swung her around in glee when their daughter had first kicked. _My child!_

She turned the key.

The sconces were still lit, although some had burned down low. The room was pretty much exactly as she had first found it. She held the door open for him and he drifted past her, eyes wide.

"Does the Inquisitor know about this room?" he asked.

"I doubt it."

She knew he hadn't seen the vials yet. She watched his gaze move over the bookshelves, then pause. She watched as he moved suddenly forward, to snatch at one of the bottles. It was a bizarre echo of her own discovery. He scanned the label. Picked up another, read the label.

Then he set them both down, carefully. "Blood samples."

She didn't need to answer. His attention moved down to the books. As he took in their content, he took two steps backward. His head snapped up, his eyes met hers.

"What _is_ this?"

"Fiona has been studying the Blight for a very long time. She's exhausted the magic offered by the Circle, and by the Wardens."

"You're not answering me." His voice wavered.

"What does it _look_ like, Cullen?"

His eyes dropped down to the books again. He shook his head, as if refusing to believe what he was seeing.

"You… you are… you accept this, _support_ this? Have you… I hardly dare ask... "

"I haven't performed blood magic, no." _Don't do this, don't pretend you're innocent in what's happening here._ "But I've…" How did she even say it? "The night that I went into labour, I wasn't on a picnic. I… we…" He was watching her so intently it felt as if his gaze was choking her. "We went on a mission to find Red Templars. Livius… Livius revealed that the red lyrium is infected with the Blight. Which means that the Red Templars are very similar to Wardens. And… and they thought that would make them decent... test subjects."

"Livius?"

She pressed her eyes closed. "He _wanted_ to die."

Cullen slumped into the chair she'd sat in no more than an hour before, when Fiona had taken her blood. He was facing away from her, listening, unable or unwilling to look at her.

Solana forged ahead. It all came out. The way she'd chased the Warden away, the bear, Anders saving her, the hours of painful labour.

But she didn't mention the Fade. She didn't mention what Celeste had done.

"So you see why I should be the one to go to Kinloch?" It was her fault, her duty. There was nothing she was unwilling to do to save their child.

Cullen pushed himself to his feet. "I certainly see something," he said. There was an undercurrent of cold rage but even so, even as he approached her, she didn't sense his next words. Standing face-to-face with her, looking her in the eyes, he said, "I see I was wrong. I _don't_ know who you are at your core."

He swept past her, back out into the dark corridor. He didn't pause. She heard his footfalls, the clang of his armor, all the way down into the far distance. Only when she could no longer hear him, did she let out a sob, did she let her knees collapse.

Anders found her like that, a few minutes, or perhaps an hour later. She was huddled near the doorway, arms wrapped around her knees. He took off his jacket and draped it across her shivering shoulders and crouched beside her. "What happened? Celeste said you asked for the key? Did you bring Cullen here? What did you tell him?"

She couldn't speak. The immensity of this mistake far surpassed all the others she seemed unable to stop making.

"Hey, Solana? Solana, what did he do to you?"

"I shouldn't have brought him here." The way he'd looked at her… disappointment, _hatred_... _those_ words. That day in the Grove he'd said he wouldn't have married her if he hadn't known who she was at her core. What did this mean now? She was only vaguely aware of Anders pulling her to her feet. "I shouldn't have… but he wouldn't believe me… he thought I took you to the -"

She caught herself just in time. Anders's interest piqued. "To the?" He prompted.

She shook her head. "Don't, please."

"Alright." He tucked an arm around her shoulders in a gesture reminiscent of Hawke. "I'll ask later, when you're feeling more yourself."

He smiled gently, with no malice, and escorted her back to her room.

* * *

Cullen had a report due for the Inquisitor that lay half forgotten under his research into Tranquility and the Blight. He cleared away the books and scraps of parchment methodically, then sat down to write his report. He wrote two sentences, stood, paced over to the window, forgot what he rose for, went back to is desk. He wrote another sentence, then took one of the books on the Blight off the top of the neat pile he'd made and paged through it. He couldn't get his eyes to focus. Every time he started reading, thoughts of Solana would intrude.

The door slammed open and he was at once on his feet again.

Celeste strode in, hands balled into fists. "If you're going to be angry at anyone, you should be angry at me."

He had never seen the quiet mage like this. Her blonde hair wisped around her face, her jaw was set and her eyes blazed. Even her voice had an edge.

"Oh, believe me, I am."

"Good." She paced the room. "Because I was the one who started this. I went to Fiona. I went to her and I said I'd do anything to save Solana. And I'm the one who wrote to Anders. And I'm the one who poisoned Livius. It was me, not her. I don't know what she told you. She was never even supposed to know because I knew she wouldn't approve. I never even wanted her to find out her child was tainted. That's not how things were supposed to go. She never asked for any of this."

He was tired, so tired. His chest felt like it had collapsed in on itself, like that avalanche that had buried Haven. Smothered in ice, unable to draw breath into his lungs.

"Go away," he said, sinking back into his chair.

"What?"

He dropped his head forward into his hands. "I can't do this. I can't..."

It was too much, it was all too much. For the first time in almost a year he felt the cravings stir beneath his skin. Another battle he had to fight. Alone.

"It's amusing," he said, to himself as much as to his uninvited guest. "When I said those vows five months ago, I expected I would never be alone again. And yet, I've never felt lonelier. Well, I suppose it's not really amusing so much as pathetic." _What am I doing?_ He needed to be stronger, he needed to be _better_. "You are a maleficar. I have always known that. How can I be angry at for you reverting to form? Maleficarum solve problems with blood magic. It's what your kind _does_."

"It's not that simple."

"What's it like? I've always pictured it to be a bit like lyrium. One dose and you feel _untouchable_. After that, Maker help you if you try give it up. Every time you feel scared, or helpless, it's there to remind you you needn't feel that way. You can feel powerful, in control. All you have to do is _give in_."

Celeste moved closer. "She told you, didn't she?"

"Yes, she told me everything."

"I didn't want to… I wouldn't have, if it hadn't been her life. It wasn't about feeling powerful. Fiona ordered me. I didn't have time to think. If she hadn't gone after her..."

He looked up at her. "Gone after her?" Was this part of the episode with the bear? He'd been too horrified that Solana had put their child at risk like that to remember details.

"I mean into the Fade."

"The Fade…" he repeated dumbly.

Celeste visibly paled and her eyes widened. "She didn't tell you."

"Tell me what?" How many secrets had Solana been keeping?

"I can't, I shouldn't." She turned to go.

"Please!" The exclamation halted her by the door. Quieter, he said, "No more secrets, please."

She stood for a long moment, frozen in place. "I… I came in here to make things better, not make them worse."

"Celeste…" He didn't hide his desperation.

When she turned to face him, her expression was controlled, her face showed no emotion. "Solana died, Cullen."

His heart stopped, then kicked. Pain shot from his chest down to his palms and he gulped in air as if he'd been physically punched in the gut. "What?"

"She lost too much blood, delivering the baby. I… I used the blood. I sent Fiona into the Fade to pull her back."

 _Why didn't she tell me?_ He raked his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots. _She died. You lost her. She was gone._ "You said the _ring_ saved her. Why did you say that?"

"I couldn't hold the spell long enough. She needed to find her own way out. The ring did glow. Just before she regained consciousness. You did play a part, Commander. That wasn't a lie."

He rose to his feet, the world spun. "She died…"

He'd pictured it, on the ride back from the Wilds. He'd seen her cold and stiff and pale. _Oh, Maker._ It had been his worst fear and it had come to pass.

And Celeste had saved her. She had used evil magic and it had brought his Solana back to him. Oh, Maker.


	52. Rally

Solana straightened her skirt and took another deep breath. She'd been hovering on the stairs up to Max's quarters for a good few minutes. The baby gurgled in her arms. She could hear low voices talking above, confirming everything she feared.

Cullen had gone to Max.

She hadn't seen him since he'd left her in that library. By the time Anders had taken her into her room, her shock had given way to sorrow. She'd been a tired, weeping mess. Celeste had fussed around her, asking too many questions. Solana had nursed, and then she'd slept. She'd woken at every sound, hoping that Cullen would come in, to visit with his daughter if not with her. After many restless hours, the dawn had streaked the stone floor pink and a messenger had arrived. The Inquisitor wished to see her.

There was only one reason she could think of.

Celeste hadn't been there when she'd awoken. Had she also been summoned? Or worse…

The little body in Solana's arms was warm and soft and so incredibly light. One chubby fist escaped from the swaddling and Solana kissed it. She briefly considered running, taking the baby and fleeing to Kinloch. But she wouldn't make it alone. And she couldn't abandon the others. If Cullen had reported them, if they'd been arrested, it was up to her to defend them, to claim responsibility.

They'd done it all for her.

The Inquisitor's room was swathed in bright morning sunlight when she pushed the door open. Cullen was there, no surprise. He fell silent at the sound of the door, turning to meet her without so much as a flicker of emotion on his well-schooled features. His arms were draped behind his back and only a small inclination of his head acknowledged her entrance.

"You asked to see me, Inquisitor?"

"Solana! Yes!" Max bounded over to her, closing the distance in no more than a few strides. "Oh, you brought the little one! May I?"

Startled, she handed the baby to him. He chuckled as he lifted her. "Oh, hello, Miss Rutherford. We've met before but I think you were asleep. I'm Max."

Solana shot Cullen a glance as the Inquisitor babbled to the baby, but his expression still showed nothing.

Max returned to his desk, still cooing as the baby's tiny hand closed around his smallest finger. "Cullen tells me you're planning an expedition?" Max asked.

"I…" Again she looked to Cullen. He said nothing. "Yes, an expedition," she said slowly.

"How many people do you need?" He pushed aside some pages on his desk, while holding the baby to his chest with his free hand.

"What?"

He glanced up at her. "As I said to the Commander, our resources aren't limitless, but if this research is what that Grey Warden claims, I believe it's worth the outlay. I'm afraid you can't take Cassandra." He flashed her his dazzling smile. "Not for personal reasons. I'm going to ask her to take over for Cullen while he's away."

 _Away?_

This time when she looked at Cullen askance, he at least cleared his throat. But his eyes returned to the Inquisitor, who was gazing down at the pages on his desk. "Kinloch is in the middle of a lake, isn't it? So you won't be wanting a large party, I imagine. Let's see… Dorian's off back home… the Chargers are available but I'd recommend against it, Bull doesn't handle magic so well. Not after the Fade. Oh! Yes! The Fade. You should take Hawke. Oh, and maybe Varric. Varric's been muttering about going back to Kirkwall. You can give him one last adventure to remember us Southerners by." Max grinned. "That's two mages, a rogue and a warrior. Not counting yourse-"

A knock on the door drew his attention. A scout beckoned him to see to some urgent matter. He sighed, patted Cullen on the shoulder, handed Solana the baby and left. "I'll only be a moment. Sorry."

The absence of Max's energy plunged the room into deep silence. Solana finally asked carefully. "What's going on?"

Cullen drew air into his lungs and she heard it tremble. He closed his eyes. "I came to the realisation that I am powerless to prevent you throwing yourself into danger. You decided you will journey to Kinloch, as you likely determined you would assist with capturing a Red Templar, as you resolved to face the archdemon that night in Haven. If I were to try stop you, I imagine you'd simply dash away when my back was turned. So, _I_ determined my only course of action is to accompany you."

"A-accompany me? But what about her?" She glanced down at their daughter.

Cullen turned and strode towards the Inquisitor's balcony. He stood looking out at the mountains, his hands still behind his back. "I sent a letter to my sisters this morning. We will be travelling via South Reach."

" _Via_? South Reach is days from Kinloch."

"This is not negotiable, Solana. Maralie will be able to care for our daughter while we are otherwise occupied. Besides, they will be anxious to meet her. We did promise a visit near First Day."

"And what? Varric and Hawke and whoever else Max decides to send with us come along to visit with your family?"

"Yes."

The baby started to fidget. That usually meant she was growing hungry. Hunger was a physical discomfort, and physical discomfort was the one thing she did react to. Since Max was out of the room, Solana seated herself at his desk and unbuttoned the top of her robe.

"Cullen, it's Kinloch. I'm not going to make you face that place again."

He turned, a response on his lips, but he choked on it. "What are you doing?"

"I'm feeding her."

" _Here?_ "

The baby latched, her fingers flexing in satisfaction as she suckled. Solana smiled down at her. "Don't worry, Cullen. If Max comes back, I'll cover up."

"I… It's not…" He dropped it. "Never mind. As I was saying, Kinloch is empty now as I understand it. I'd have to be a particular kind of coward to be frightened of an empty building."

"I wasn't calling you a coward." He'd almost gone insane serving there. He'd confided as much to her once. In Max's quarters, as it so happened.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know you weren't."

She watched him quietly. He hadn't been sleeping, she was sure of it now. There were dark marks beneath his eyes and his face seemed drawn. Her heart swelled with concern for him, but she didn't know how to voice it in a way that wouldn't upset him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He startled. "Whatever for?"

"When I was summoned here I thought… I thought you might have told Max about… well, about what I showed you yesterday."

"I would be lying if I said I hadn't considered it. I don't…" He dropped his voice, even though there was no-one else there. "I don't approve of this happening in his fortress without his knowledge." His eyes lingered on Solana's breast, or perhaps on the child who was nursing there. "But I happen to love you. And I wouldn't wish any harm to come to you, regardless of what you may have done."

Warmth washed through her, relief tinged with shame. He still loved her. But when she tried to meet his gaze, he looked away quickly. They did not speak more.

Solana had the baby pressed against her shoulder, and was rubbing her back to coax her into burping, when Max returned to continue planning their expedition.

* * *

"I hear you're planning an expedition?" Hawke asked by way of greeting. He'd found Solana in the stables, and he leaned against one of the posts, offering her a lazy smile.

She was sitting at the wooden table where Blackwall had carved blocks of wood into children's toys. Her fingers were blue and yellow, and there was a pink smear across her nose. In front of her was Blackwall's very last creation, a wooden rocking "horse", shaped like a griffon to no doubt honour the Grey Wardens he so loved.

Only, with the splotches of colour Solana had added, it looked more like a Gamordan Stormrider. She was glaring at the paintbrush in her hands as if it has personally insulted her.

"Cullen's planning it," she said, without looking at him. "I think he was nervous that if he didn't, I'd run off to Kinloch myself."

"Which you would," Hawke offered.

"No. Not… entirely." She glanced down at her feet, and Hawke saw the basket. The baby was snuggled up in furs, fast asleep.

He knelt beside the basket, resisting the urge to pick up the baby and cuddle it. She was too adorable for words; a little doll with pink cheeks and a tiny rosebud mouth. "Well, she might be a little young to appreciate the old homestead."

Solana didn't answer, but after a moment she sighed. "I should have asked Solas for lessons before he ran off. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"I think the trick is to let one layer dry before adding more colours," Hawke suggested.

She set down the brush, "You're probably right." Then, before he could stop her, she dropped her head forward into her hands. He cringed, not sure how to tell her she now had blue temples. He drew a deep breath. Time enough for that later. That's not what he came here for.

That morning, after a night of frenzied lovemaking, he'd woken in Anders's arms.

"I missed you," Anders had said, warm cheek pressed against his spine.

"I missed you too," Hawke had responded automatically.

"Did you?" The question had been so simple, and yet it had set Hawke's stomach in knots. He'd pulled away.

"Of course I did."

"I didn't receive any letters."

He'd apologised, turned it into a jest about how Anders didn't like his penmanship anyhow. And he'd explained that he'd been busy leading the mages in battle, he simply hadn't had time to write.

Yet he knew that the Commander had found time. Leading the entire army, he'd found time to sit scribbling letters in front of the fire. One of those nights, while Cullen had been pouting over parchment, scratching out as many words as he wrote, Hawke had thought about it. But what would he say? Echoes of the fight they'd had months ago rang in his head.

 _If you wanted to leave me you should have just said. None of this 'I can't wait until I'm in your arms again' bollocks._

He didn't know what he wanted. The thought of losing Anders was unbearable, the thought of being the only thing of value in Anders's life, the only one keeping him from turning into a vengeance demon, was likewise.

"Solana…" he said now.

She glanced down at him, confirming that, yes, she did now have blue temples. It said a lot about his current state of mind that he didn't burst out laughing at the sight.

"I was wondering… would it be possible for Anders to join our little quest?"

She blinked. "I'm sure it would be. Cullen might need some convincing." A smile pulled at her lips. "I'm guessing you don't want to leave him so soon after returning from the Wilds?"

Hawke chuckled, not sure what to say. "It's not just that. He knows Kinloch better than anyone. He managed to escape sev-"

"Seven times. I know."

"Yes, well. I believe he would be a valuable addition to the party."

"And?"

"And?" he raised his eyebrows, askance.

"And there's something you're not saying."

Hawke sighed and reached into the basket to tuck the blankets more securely around the baby. "And he's a Warden. He knows magic, he knows healing and he knows the taint. If anyone can figure out the cure from this elf's research, it's Anders." She wasn't buying it, from the way she was looking at him. "And… he's a Warden. Thirty years, right? Closer to twenty now."

Her look softened. "You want to cure him."

"Is that really so surprising?"

Let her think that was all there was to it. Let her think that it was more than just a desperate attempt to force himself back in love with the man.

Solana smiled softly. "I'll speak to Cullen."

* * *

It was only when they were in the stables, getting ready to set off, that Cullen realised how much of an outsider he'd be on this particular mission.

Celeste and Solana were fussing over the baby and every so often he'd catch a snippet of advice from the maleficar.

 _"Now when she's hungry she tends to grunt."_

 _"I know that."_

 _"And if she starts crying after a feed, it's probably gas."_

 _"Celeste, I know that."_

 _"She'll want a feed every four to six hours, so ask whoever's on watch to wake you."_

 _"Celeste, I'll be fine."_

Celeste had her own child in Denerim, Cullen knew. But she'd been here looking after his, while Solana had been recovering. From death.

He swallowed and turned his attention to the other huddle of people, packing the last items into saddle pouches. Varric, Hawke and Anders. The three had adventured together for nearly a decade. He couldn't imagine what it must be to have a friendship that lasted that long. Even though he knew from things the dwarf had said before Anders's unexpected arrival that Varric did not approve of what he'd done, and hadn't nearly forgiven him, they were companionable, falling into what must have been old habits.

 _"Hey, Blondie, did you hear the one about the qunari and the mabari?"_

Then there was Cassey. Cassey who had probably been one of his charges, and yet he couldn't even remember her. He could remember the days the blood mages had taken over Kinloch with crystal clarity, but the faces of the individuals in his care had been purged from his memory. Lyrium, probably. It did that. Or perhaps it was the guilt. He'd called for the Rite. He'd wanted them all to burn.

She stood apart from the rest, fiddling with a ring on her finger the way that Solana had when they'd first reunited, and while Cullen could have approached her and made friendly conversation, his guilt stood between them as solid as his shield.

Instead, he pulled out his map. By his calculations, if they made good time, they could be at Kinloch within the week. One day down the mountain, one to Redcliffe, where they could stay at an inn and stock up on supplies, then across Lake Calenhad and across the bannorn. Travelling light, they could make it across the flat farmland to South Reach in two days. From there… a further two days to the docks. _The docks._ Ice in his belly. He shut his eyes.

It didn't matter. That was all past and Solana was here and now and alive. And he was going to make certain she stayed that way.

They were only a few hours out the gates when the first disruption to Cullen's carefully laid plans came.

A hooded figure galloped after them, at a disconcerting speed considering the narrow mountain road. Its horse whinnied and kicked up dust and snow as it drew nearer and Cullen was cursing under his breath as he pulled his own horse to the side so that the rider might pass. The others followed his lead, but the rider did not pass them. Instead, it drew to a halt and Cullen was about to give it a piece of his mind, when it lowered its hood.

"Hello." Trevelyan grinned at him. "I don't suppose you'd mind if I were to join you?"


	53. Winter's Grasp

Flustered, Cullen stumbled over his words. "Inquisitor - I…"

It was Solana who answered, with a laugh. "We _are_ in need of a babysitter."

She was wearing the baby in a sling strapped to her chest that Celeste had apparently advised. Cullen still wasn't sure that it was best for her to be riding with such delicate cargo, but Solana was more at home on the back of a horse than anyone he'd ever known. Her hair was done up in a messy bun at the nape of her neck and she was bundled in so many layers of clothing that he was satisfied that if she did, for some reason, come unseated, there would be some level of protection for the child.

"I'd gladly volunteer for that task," Max said. "I am also good with a sword. Cassandra tells me that my stance is lazy, but we can't all be the Hero of Orlais."

"The what?" Hawke asked, drawing up alongside them.

"She hasn't told you the story? Odd. Perhaps she was self-conscious. She loves telling me how fortunate I am to have the heroes of Orlais, Kirkwall and Ferelden serving under my banner. I'm not sure if she means it as a compliment or to cut me down to size."

Cullen finally found his voice. "You wish to join our mission?"

"Yes, I would. If it's no trouble?"

The question Cullen wanted to ask was _why_ , but it seemed rude to just demand that from his superior. "It is no trouble," he said.

Again, it was Solana who found the words he wanted to. "The evil magister is dead. What are you running from?"

Trevelyan chuckled, but his eyes darted off to the side, observing the mountain view. "It's less of a running from, and more of a running… to."

"I'm not sure I understand. If you wanted to see the Fereldan Circle Tower…"

"No, it's not the tower per se… it's what it _represents_. Mystery, adventure… I've hardly left my office since I returned from defeating Corypheus."

"Don't tell me you're bored?" Varric shouted from behind him.

"No, not bored. Sweet Andraste, not bored. I have enough paperwork to last me several years."

Hawke gave him a knowing look. "And let me guess, everybody needs you?"

"All the time," Trevelyan lamented.

"They do know where you've gone?" Cullen asked, thinking of the cloak. "We won't have a search party coming after you?" If Trevelyan had wanted to join their mission he might have said something at Skyhold, rather than following them.

"Cassandra knows. I left her in command. Don't fret, Cullen. We won't have Leliana's birds descending upon us."

"I'd be more concerned with her arrows," Solana quipped. Then, to the group. "Let's make haste before the Inquisitor's paperwork catches up with him."

The first day of travel was tense as they navigated their way down the mountain, but uneventful. They stopped for the night in the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

As they made camp, Cullen kept catching Solana and Anders exchanging looks. He knew why. This was where it had happened, where they'd set a trap for their test subjects and she'd been set upon by a wild animal instead. There was no sign of Red Templars now. All was quiet.

They took turns telling stories around the campfire while dining on roast nug and hard cheese. Solana, as usual, had everyone enthralled with a tale of how she'd once traversed the very caverns below them and found an entire wyrmling lair. The only person present who might match her in outrageous conquests was Hawke, but Varric kept interrupting his story - "you're not telling it right!" - and eventually the dwarf took over.

Cullen's mind drifted as he watched his wife enjoying the story, their child cuddled up against her chest. The baby was watching her as she laughed and prompted Varric to continue. Her tiny jewel-like eyes were bright and curious in the firelight. It was achingly beautiful, this picture of them. His family. Solana was alive in a way she hadn't been in months. The open road and comradery brought out the best in her. She blazed with an inner light that he couldn't recall ever being able to reach. Is that what Alistair had seen, every night they were together? Is that who she'd been for him?

Cullen had hardly spoken to Solana since that morning in Trevelyan's quarters. The exception being when she'd arrived in his office and asked that Anders join them. She'd been pale and nervous as if he frightened her. And he'd felt he had no choice but to agree. Now, as the time they'd have to share a single tent drew near, he found himself fretful. She had been involved in who knows what dark magic. But she'd done it in the hopes of saving their child. And she'd told him about it. And she'd _died_. He was hurt and angry, but relieved and grateful. And he didn't know how to act with her. All he knew was that he was inadequate. Inadequate and unnecessary. She would do as she saw fit, regardless of him.

* * *

"I'll take first watch," Cullen announced as Varric came to the end of his tale.

Solana's chest tightened. Cullen had been avoiding her since she'd shown him that room and now, even in camp, he sought a way to keep out of her reach. His face was drawn, she could see he was tired.

"No, I'll be up with the baby. I'll take first watch."

"She'll need another feed before the night is through," he said. "Feed her now, rest, and I'll wake you for the second watch."

Of course, that way he could avoid sleeping beside her at all. She didn't have the strength to argue, so she inclined her head. She caught Varric looking between them, but the others seemed oblivious.

The baby was fidgety, overstimulated from seeing and hearing so many new things. It took over an hour for her to get to sleep and then Solana lay awake, cradling her gently, and listening to the sounds outside the tent.

She was still awake when Cullen came to rouse her and in the dim light from the fire, she saw doubt cross his features upon finding her awake. He opened his mouth, seemed to decide against whatever he meant to say, and nodded to her as he might nod to one of his men upon relieving them from duty.

Travelling with a baby was more of a challenge than Solana had expected, and she was relieved when they came to Redcliffe. She'd run out of napkins after her daughter had chosen to fill three of them within the space of an hour. She was obviously uncomfortable, making a whole range of sounds that she'd never made before.

"Don't look at me," Varric said when she started outright wailing. "Inquisitor's supposed to be babysitter."

But Max had been as much at a loss as Solana. Cullen had looked on helplessly, Cassey had reminded her that she, too, was a Circle mage and had never even seen a baby before. Hawke prodded Anders forward and, with a sigh, he examined her while she kicked and wiggled and yelled, eventually identifying a small irritated patch where her skin had been rubbed raw by the sling and the movement of the horse.

By that stage Solana, too, had been practically in tears. She wasn't a mother. She should have never been a mother. She knew nothing about babies and all she'd managed to achieve so far was making this one miserable.

When they stopped at a merchant so Anders could pick up some elfroot balm for the baby, Solana had handed her to a surprised Max and gone for a walk to clear her mind. She went along the docks, weaving through the crowds and hawkers. Wind whipped up off the water, icy and fresh in her lungs. She looked out at Redcliffe Castle and thought of Eamon and ashes and everything she'd once been.

Eventually Trevelyan found her. The baby was quiet in his arms, staring with fascination at the throngs of people. "We've booked some rooms at the Gull and Lantern for the night, but there's bad news. Ice on the lake, no passage. We're going to have to take the Imperial Highway."

"I'm sure Cullen's delighted," she said without looking at him. Nothing upset Cullen more than a carefully laid plan falling apart.

"I think he's still frothing at the ferryman."

Max fell silent, following her gaze. After a few minutes he chuckled.

"Care to share?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "I came here, shortly before you joined the Inquisition. A spell sent me forward in time. I just realised it sent me forward to about now. It's a little different."

"No Corypheus?" she guessed.

"Yes, and no rift, and no army of advancing demons. It's peaceful. I quite like it."

She smirked. "I know the feeling. It wasn't much fun while swarming with the living dead either."

They'd booked the rooms under false names, and Max kept a thick glove over his left hand to hide the glow. Still, the party squished around the very furthest, most shadowy table in the tavern when dinner time came around. Cullen ate and then retired quickly, with the excuse that he wished to plot their route for the next day. He ignored Varric's teasing that the Imperial Highway _was_ a route. Solana suspected that he just wished to distance himself from her. If he was asleep before she returned to their room there would be no need to talk, no need to be aware of their proximity, of the fact that they were sharing a bed.

Hawke and Anders likewise left early. Hawke seemed troubled, but Solana dared not ask him why while Anders was there in case Anders was the reason. Then Cassey left, and Varric joined a game of Wicked Grace at a nearby table. Solana found herself alone with Max.

"So, the Hero, the Inquisitor and a baby walk into a bar…" she said, to break the ice.

He gave her the long-suffering look of a man who has heard more bad jokes in the last two days than any man should have to endure.

She held up her hands defensively. "Alright, I'll leave the jokes to Varric and Hawke."

Silence fell between them. She took a sip of her drink - water - and searched for something to say. Cullen likely wouldn't be asleep yet. It often took him ages to drift off. She couldn't excuse herself yet.

"So… what's the plan if anyone here recognises you?" she asked. The inn was rowdy. Noise swelled regularly from the table where Varric was playing cards and more and more people kept arriving. It was already packed and was only going to get worse.

"They won't," Max said, taking swig of his own drink. "No one knows what I look like. They know the hand. What about you? There's a statue right outside. Did you see it?"

She'd seen it the first time she'd come to Redcliffe after the Blight, looking for help for Cassey and Falin. It seemed like years ago. "It's not exactly in my likeness. Unless you're implying I look like a dragon?"

He chuckled and took another sip of his drink.

"Is that why you decided to join us? To be anonymous for a change?" she asked. She knew something of his plight in that regard.

His eyes narrowed. "I suppose so. Yes. But I wasn't the mastermind. Cass convinced me." A roar of laughter from the other table punctuated the statement. "I didn't mean for the subterfuge. I decided at the last moment. I miss being out of the fortress. This…" His eyes dropped to his mug. He ran a gloved finger through the circle of condensation it had left on the surface of the wood. "This reminds me of the early days. Camping along the road, telling fireside stories. None of the… fussing that comes with being Inquisitor. I don't dislike it, this role. Who would? But I do often wonder what things would be like if I weren't so… forgive me, I'm rambling." His eyes met hers and he gave her a small smile.

"I understand. Why do you think I ran?"

It was an admission she hadn't made out loud before, and while it sent a shock through her, Max's attention was drawn once again to Varric's table. "Do you think they'd let us join?"


	54. Stoic

Cullen woke to an empty bed. He reached across to touch the cool mattress, finding confirmation he didn't need. No one had slept there. Solana had spent the night somewhere else.

He tried to ignore the pain in his chest as he readied himself for the day ahead. He dressed methodically, but snagged himself with the razor while shaving. A foolish error. One he hadn't made in years. As he dabbed at his cheek, his control slipped and his mind started presenting scenarios. One, she didn't want to sleep beside him. That seemed the most likely. He remembered the way she'd looked at him when she'd asked about Anders accompanying them, the expression on her face when she'd found him in Max's office, the way her eyes had darted from his the previous night. She must have gone and rented her own room because she had no desire to be near him. But as much as that hurt, there were alternative scenarios and they were worse. Halamshiral had been abuzz with rumours that she was involved with the Inquisitor. What if the gossiping nobles had picked up on something that was really there? What if they'd fallen drunkenly into bed together? Or, a third scenario, that something terrible had happened in the tavern while he'd been asleep. They'd been taken by bandits or something equally… ridiculous. He stared at himself in the small mirror above the basin. Or, something less ridiculous, she'd run ahead. She'd decided to go to Kinloch without him.

It was this thought that drove him downstairs, ready to demand the owner disclose her whereabouts. But as he came down the stairs, he saw a cluster of people gathered in the centre of the main room.

A flash of red hair sent his heart into his throat. One of the men moved aside, and there she was, shoulder-to-shoulder with Varric and giggling at her hand of cards.

"You stayed up all night playing cards?" Cullen asked, aghast.

Solana startled, eyes going wide. Her hair had half fallen out of its bun, and the top two buttons of her robe were undone. _Maker's breath!_

Varric waved. "Morning, Commander."

"I… were you drinking?"

He ignored the looks of the other patrons. Solana shouldn't have been drinking. Not while she was still nursing the…

"Where's the baby?" Ice shot through his veins. If she got drunk and forgot her -

Varric stood, waving both of his hands now. "Shh shh, you'll wake them."

"Wake the-"

A movement on one of the tables against the far wall drew his attention. Trevelyan sat up slowly and yelped when he hit his head on a windowsill. The baby was nestled in his arms, but her eyes snapped open and her little fists shot outwards at his exclamation.

Cullen closed the distance between them in three strides, seizing the baby from him. She gave a whinge of protest as he hugged her to his chest, possibly a little too tightly. He had no words, all he could do was glare at the Inquisitor.

"Eh, morning, Commander." Trevelyan rubbed his head.

"Cullen, it's all right," Solana was moving towards him, her voice sweet. She reached out a hand to touch him, but he stumbled away. "I'm not drunk. You've seen me drunk enough times to know that. Varric was teaching me how to play Wicked Grace."

"You could already play Wicked Grace." They'd played on the way to Halamshiral.

Varric chuckled. "No, she really couldn't."

"You played all night?" It wasn't really a question, so much as a demand for an explanation.

Solana blinked slowly. "I honestly didn't realise the time."

"With our baby."

"Well, I didn't play cards _with_ our baby. She's still a little young." Solana smiled and Varric chuckled again.

The dwarf stepped forward and patted Cullen's arm. "Look, Curly, baby's what? Three weeks old? Four? She's happy so long as she has milk to drink and a soft place to sleep. Your babysitter did a good job with the latter part and your lady was here for the rest. No harm done. Why don't you have some breakfast while they go wash up? I'll wake Hawke and we'll hit the road, alright?"

Cullen ignored the urge to correct Varric by reminding him that his daughter couldn't technically feel happiness. He was too overwhelmed. Everyone was staring at him as if _he_ was the strange one. Was it really so outlandish to be upset about this?

"I was worried about you," he said to Solana.

The smile melted from her face. "I'm sorry. I didn't intend for that."

"No. I don't imagine it crossed your mind."

* * *

Hawke looked more hung over than Max by the time he arrived downstairs. Anders trailed him like a shadow.

The early morning light was already pouring in through the grimy windows and it was now apparent just just how dusty the place was. Every movement sent sprays of dust motes into the sun beams where they danced and glittered.

Cullen had been pacing nervously near the bar, and Solana had hidden in a corner to give the baby her breakfast. The rest of the party was scattered around the place, seeing to their own business.

"We need to talk," Hawke said.

Cullen spun to face him and even though he didn't say it, Solana saw what he was thinking from his expression. Another disruption to his carefully laid plans.

Hawke took a deep breath, and Solana tried to catch a glimpse of Anders's face, but she couldn't. She hurried to dress herself.

"Very well," Cullen said stiffly. "Would you like to step outside, or…?"

"No, here's fine." He ran a hand through his hair and settled into the chair that Solana had occupied for most of the night. Anders stood behind him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Solana slipped out from her corner. "Are you all right?"

Everyone else was now paying rapt attention too. Hawke offered a shaky smile. "Here's the thing. I don't know how many of you know this, but I'm originally from Lothering."

Lothering. The very first town Solana had visited with Alistair and Morrigan, straight after the tragedy at Ostagar.

"I had to flee during the Blight," Hawke said. "At first, when you said we'd be taking the Imperial Highway, I didn't know how to feel about that. You probably know that it passes right by Lothering. I've been… frightened, I guess. Of seeing what became of it. But, I think I need closure. I think I need to see it for myself."

"Lothering…" Cullen repeated slowly. "I'm sorry, Lothering was…"

"Lost to the Blight, I know," Hawke said.

"I mean only that it might not be safe to camp there. The Blight can remain in an area long after -"

Hawke nodded. "I know, but we have three Grey Wardens with us." He glanced at the baby. "Practically four."

"You wish for them to scout ahead?" Cullen guessed.

"They'll be able to tell us if it's safe for the rest of us. If it's not, we pass by. I just… I don't want to miss this opportunity." Anders squeezed his shoulder.

Solana was surprised when Cullen's gaze moved to her. "Well? What do you think?"

She blinked. Of course, she was the senior Grey Warden. Why _wouldn't_ he ask her? Even if he was still quietly seething about her actions.

"We still need some supplies. We could go ahead while you stock up. If it's still unsafe, we'll meet you on the road."

"She _is_ immune?" Cullen asked, eyeing the baby.

Solana nodded. "Yes, she'll be fine."

* * *

Cullen tried his best not to worry as they took to the road. He concentrated on the details. The Highway was a wonder, white stone gleaming, lancet arches marching further into the distance than his eyes could see. He tried to concentrate on the pleasant sensation of the fresh Ferelden air on his cheek and not on the thrumming of his heart.

Solana could handle herself in battle if it came to that, if set upon by vagrants, or highwaymen, or wild animals…

He swallowed down bitter bile. Wild animals like the bear that came so close to ending her life.

Anders was with her now, as he had been with her then. And they had the other mage, Cassey. He had nothing to be frightened of.

Still, it was a relief when the rooftops of the village came into view and there had been no sign of the Wardens. That must mean it was safe, and they were somewhere within.

Hawke was the first to dismount. His jaw was set as he lead his steed off the highway. Trevelyan and Varric followed, and Cullen brought up the rear.

The sun was low in the sky and shadows clustered around the spiked palisade that bordered the village. Time or, more likely, multiple darkspawn incursions, had pulled it down in places and it was no trouble finding a gap to step through.

"It's so quiet," Hawke said. His voice was a mere whisper, yet it was easy to hear. There was no sound at all. Not even birdsong. Doubt crept up Cullen's spine. Lothering was shrouded in foreboding silence. What if something had happened to Solana after all? What if the Blight was still here -

A shadow darted across one of the walls and Cullen pulled out his sword automatically. But it was not darkspawn, or a bandit, that came running between the buildings. It was a horse, short its rider.

For a single moment his stomach was lead as a dozen scenarios for what had become of the rider chased through his mind. Then he saw her. Solana. Running around a building and after the horse. She managed to snatch the bridle. Laughing, panting, hair streaming behind her in a fiery mane, she was red-cheeked but unharmed.

Then she saw him and all trace of joy left her face. She went still, her back erect.

He sheathed his sword. "All's well?"

"Yes. Fire's going. The horse was spooked by the flame." She patted its nose. "No trace of Blight, but I suppose no one's dared come here to check. The village is deserted." It was as if she was one of his men, giving a status report.

"They did," Hawke said. At Cullen's curious look, he added, "They did come here to check. They tried to rebuild a few years ago but found the ground was poisoned. Nothing would grow."

He moved forward as if in a dream, holding out a hand to brush the building. Cullen followed.

They'd set it up camp in front of the local chantry. Even in such a small village, the building was something to behold. The spiked archway was reminiscent of the sunburst, and that same emblem was echoed upon the steeple. Cullen imagined that at certain times of year, the sun shone right through as it set, casting the archway in flaming hues of red and gold.

It was not the camp that Hawke moved towards, however. He veered off to the right, walking over a wide stone bridge. Ahead of them the sky was orange and an old broken mill stood as a shadowy silhouette against it. Solana trotted after them, pulling the horse with her. No one spoke. There was no need. Cullen knew where Hawke must have been heading, and he supposed that Solana did too.

As they entered the village proper, Solana whispered an incantation and her staff glowed, brightening the way. Hawke crossed the square, passed an old well and stopped outside an old cottage on the edge of town. The thatch was partly sunken in, partly burned. One wall had collapsed. The wooden door hung off his hinges. He swallowed.

"I should get Anders," Solana said.

"Why?" Hawke asked. "No need for a healer."

"Hawke…"

"Solana. You need to be here. It's your… your family too."

He stepped over the threshold.

Solana pressed the horse's reins into Cullen's hand and moved past him without saying anything. The brush of her skin as he took the reins, the scent of rose petals as she crossed so close. He shut his eyes and breathed in the moment.

"Cullen!" Hawke's voice came from within the shadowy recesses of the ruined entrance hall. "Yours too, come on."

Cullen gave a start at the mention of his name. _Yours too_. He'd never thought of it that way, that he was now related to the Amells, to Hawke, through marriage.

He secured the horse to one of the remaining columns that held up the roof and followed them in.

Hawke was standing in the middle of what had once been a living room. Now the floorboards were rotten, some sparrows had nested in the rafters and there was a hole in the roof at least double the size of the one above his office.

"Looted, as I suspected," Hawke said. He took a deep breath, shoulders moving upward as his lungs filled, then down again as he let out a rush of air.

"They didn't take everything." Solana had picked up a shattered picture frame. The etching inside was damp around the edges, and the ink had run, but she passed it to Hawke.

"Oh," he said. He stared at it and Cullen was certain, even in the dim light, that he paled.

"Who is it?"

He tried for a smile. It wobbled then collapsed into a frown as he handed the image back to her. "It's my brother and sister. The twins."

"Carver's a Grey Warden," Cullen recalled, leaning to get a look at the picture.

"Yes. In the Anderfels. He got as far away from me as possible at the first opportunity."

The etching showed two children of equal height, both with Hawke's messy black hair, posed for a portrait.

"And the girl?" Cullen asked.

"Bethany. She, uh, didn't make it to Kirkwall."

Cullen's eyes snapped to Hawke's, but there was no doubting the implication of the words. "I'm… I'm so sorry."

The watery smile returned to Hawke's mouth. "As am I. She was the best sibling anyone could have asked for. We'd train together, out there." He pointed out a broken window to an overgrown garden with a high stone wall. "My father taught us how to control our powers. We'd duel. She beat me almost every time."

"I too used to train with my siblings," Cullen said, for lack of something better. "Some of my fondest memories." Solana was watching him curiously, and he felt suddenly self conscious. "Sorry, you don't want to hear about my - we should look around, see if we can find anything else of sentimental value that may have been passed over by the looters."

Hawke went down a hallway that must have lead to the bedchambers and Cullen headed for what had once been the kitchen but was now no more than an alcove with an overflowing cauldron and some broken cutlery, open to the sky.

To his surprise, Solana followed him. "You used to train with your siblings? They seem so domestic." She was amused, her mouth quirked at his expense.

He busied himself checking through flooded drawers. "Yes, you can ask them about it tomorrow if you desire. Rosalie is particularly fond of regaling how I'd force her to play the apostate."

A stiff drawer came suddenly free as he tugged on it, sloshing water across his boots. He lept back, an oath on his tongue. By the time he'd gathered his wits again, Solana was gone.


	55. Curse of Mortality

The wind wailing through cracks in Skyhold's walls did nothing to fortify Celeste's courage as she stepped into the icy gaol. It had to be at least as cold as the snowy landscape outside. She had a shawl around her shoulders and fur-lined boots, and even so her fingers were white and numb on the tray she carried.

Warden Edmond was huddled in the furthest corner from the gaol's missing wall. A flurry of snow blew across the gap, catching the last pink light of the day. He straightened at the sound of the door, and Celeste offered him a sympathetic smile.

"I wouldn't bother," he said, through clenched teeth. "He's not long for this world."

"What?"

He nodded to the cell where she could only make out a black lump.

"Took a fever this morning. He says it's the lyrium. Nothing to be done."

Fiona wouldn't like that. They needed him. Solana needed him. The baby needed him. "Maybe he's just being dramatic. Cullen gave up lyrium and survived."

But even as she approached the cell, she could see Samson was in poor shape. He was curled in on himself, quaking, teeth grit and forehead shining.

"Ser Samson?" she asked hesitantly. "I've brought you food." He didn't respond. She crouched and pushed the tray through to him. "It's warm porridge. But it won't be warm if you leave it."

"You heard the man," he said, voice hardly more than a rasp. "No point."

"Don't be ridiculous."

His eyes opened. Red slits stared at her, but he said nothing more.

She couldn't leave him like this. She had to do something. To Edmond she said, "Open the door."

"Are you jesting?"

"He needs help, open the door."

Edmond wandered over, with his hands stuffed in his pockets to keep them warm. "In case you're not aware, this man led Corypheus's army. I open the door, he escapes, it will be my head when the Inquisitor returns. No can do."

Celeste focused her gaze on him with an intensity she hoped to rival Fiona's. Magic wasn't the only thing she'd been learning from the Grand Enchanter. "If this man dies while under your care, the Warden Commander will have more than just your head."

That gave him pause.

She added, almost casually, "And you know her husband has a special interest in Ser Samson. He went to considerable expense to have him brought back here."

Edmond growled and withdrew a ring of keys. "On _your_ head be it."

He fumbled with them for an agonisingly long while before finding the correct key for the lock. Samson didn't move as he opened the door, nor when Celeste entered and knelt beside him.

She was glad that neither of the men could hear her rapid heartbeat, or see how dry her mouth had become. Samson was dangerous. One of the most dangerous people in Thedas. Only, he didn't look that dangerous curled up in a feverish ball.

"I must warn you, I'm a mage," she felt the need to tell him. "Any sudden movements would not be advised."

"They make mages announce themselves now, do they?"

"Call it a courtesy."

His back was to her and he stank of sweat and decay. They'd dressed him in a dark cotton shirt and trousers. She reached forward to touch his back. As her fingers came in contact with him, he jerked and hissed. She pulled back in fright, and Edmond unsheathed his sword. "Watch it!"

Celeste took a deep breath of cold air, and tried again. This time, as she touched his shoulder, he gave a groan of pain. She turned him over, onto his back and he thrashed against her grip, whimpering.

"His skin's sensitive," Celeste told Edmond.

She leaned over Samson, pressing a finger to his pulse. Rapid, racing. A hand on his forehead. Burning, despite the cold.

"Go fetch Fiona," she commanded.

Edmond didn't move. "What? You expect me to just leave you here, door wide open for him to escape?"

"He's not going anywhere, but lock me in if you must."

"Lock you -"

 _Oh for the love of Andraste_. She lashed out with her right hand and cast fire. The spell speared right past Edmond, slamming into the opposite wall. "Fiona! Now!"

His eyes were as large as silver pieces. He nodded and closed the door, turning the lock with a dexterity he had seemed to sorely lack before, and hurried away.

Samson chuckled weakly again, staring up at her with his red eyes. He was not an attractive man. Pallid skin, wide forehead, dark stubble and slick, greasy hair. The red lyrium had been eating away at him from the inside out, it seemed. And now it was claiming him.

"Courtesy, indeed." He grinned, revealing crooked teeth.

She lifted one of his hands to keep a finger on the pulse point at his wrist. It was ice, so cold that the tips were turning blue. Along his nails, shards of red. The lyrium. Even in her grip, the hand shivered. His whole body trembled. Edmond had been right. He wouldn't see out the night, not like this.

She removed her shawl.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

What _was_ she doing? She draped it over him, tucking in the edges. "I'm a destructive mage, you know what that is?"

"I was a Templar, so yeah, I know what a destructive mage is."

"In other words," she said. "I am not a healer. Fiona might be able to warm you with magic. I can't."

His eyes closed. "You want me to live, so you can run your little experiments on me?"

It would be naive to think he hadn't worked out what was happening. Anders had fed him two possible concoctions so far, neither had done anything. Plus, he'd probably overheard a few of their conversations as they came and went. Still, the way he said it…

"Don't worry, Mage. I'm not opposed to that. In fact, I'm all for it. But, here's the thing. I doubt you want everybody to know. Say I survive this. Say I get taken before your Inquisitor when he comes back from Maker knows where. Say I have the whole court right there, listening to me. I'm supposing you don't want me saying anything?"

A laugh bubbled up from her chest. "You're trying to blackmail me. Now?"

"Well, I figure I don't have much time, do I? Either way."

"What do you want in return for your silence, then?" she asked, more out of amusement than any real fear.

"I want in on it. Whatever you're up to."

"So you haven't worked out what we're up to but you want to be a part of it?"

"You're making some kind of potion. Must be valuable, powerful, to have the Hero, that apostate and the former Grand Enchanter involved."

"I'm afraid you might be disappointed. We're searching for a cure. To the Blight."

His brow puckered in confusion. "Hate to break it to ya, Mage. I don't have the Blight."

"I hate to break it to you, Ser Samson, but what exactly do you think red lyrium is?"

He frowned and something that might have been genuine fear flicked across his features, too fast for her to be sure. He opened his red eyes again, examining her face.

"It's blighted. You're tainted. We're attempting to cure you."

He didn't have the chance to respond. The gaol door clanged open and Fiona rushed in.

"Celeste! What are you _doing_?"

She gave Samson an apologetic shrug, and sent a sleep spell up through the hand she was still holding. By the time Fiona reached the cell door, he was quietly snoring.

* * *

The campfire burned warm and fragrant and Varric spun tales, one bleeding into the other so seamlessly that Cullen could hardly tell where one ended and another began. They shared provisions of cheese, bread and preserved fig that was almost so sweet as to be unpleasant. It was simple food, none of them trusting the health of the local wildlife, but it was decadent compared to the meals he'd shared in the Wilds. Cullen was so entranced by the food, and by Varric's tales, that he didn't notice Solana slip away.

He thought nothing of it when he noticed she'd gone, assuming she had ducked away to feed the baby. But then a small whimper alerted him to the fact that the baby was still there, resting beside Trevelyan, in her basket.

"I think she's hungry," the Inquisitor said, lifting her up gently as she gave another little grunt.

"No, it won't be that," Anders said. "Solana fed her less than an hour ago."

He turned his head, as if to ask Hawke for confirmation. Hawke wasn't there either.

Anders frowned, but spoke as if his partner's sudden absence didn't bother him. "If she doesn't smell, it's probably wind. Pass her here, I'll see to her."

* * *

The chantry had that kind of stillness that only very old buildings had, like age had given the walls the ability to absorb every disturbance: sound, motion, even light. Moonlight spilled in through the high stained-glass windows, casting odd smatterings of colour across the floor, but otherwise there was but a single light within, a mage's staff set to glow.

Solana crept towards it, careful not to disrupt the lone figure hunched in one of the pews. Hawke had his head bowed as if in prayer and she reconsidered her decision to follow him.

"I used to come here as a child," he said, suddenly. "My mother didn't like it, but father insisted. Even after my powers manifested, he said it was more important than ever that I know right from wrong."

Solana sank onto the seat beside him. "I saw you leave the fire. I'd ask if you're alright but…" She let the sentence drop.

Hawke gave a hollow chuckle. "I don't know what I expected. Maybe that being here would make me feel close to them. Instead it just… it just feels empty." He let out a trembling breath.

Solana didn't know what to say. "I came here during the Blight… I'm sorry, Hawke. I should have done more."

"You mean besides saving the world?" He looked up at her, the light of his staff throwing his features into sharp relief as he offered her a smile.

She wanted to correct him, tell him that it wasn't her who'd saved it. She wanted to confess that she'd entered Lothering that day wide-eyed and terrified. She'd never seen the world outside the Tower before Duncan recruited her. She'd spent hours wandering around the Ostagar encampment, enthralled by everything she knew now to be mundane. She hadn't been prepared for Lothering, for the smell and the noise and so much desperation. Morrigan had urged her to move on once they'd gathered supplies and she had obliged. She wanted to tell Hawke, but she felt too ashamed. Instead of helping the refugees, she'd sat here, on this very seat perhaps, and prayed. Alistair had found her eventually, and they'd spoken about Duncan, about travelling to Highever one day to erect a statue in his honour, as substitute for a funeral. In the end, Solana had made that trip alone. She hadn't had the means to erect a statue. She had instead lit an empty fire on a barren cliff, and offered nothing but words for both of them.

Now the memory of that day, sitting in this chantry and doing nothing, tasted bitter. "Your sister, how did she -"

"Ogre."

 _Darkspawn. What else would it have been?_

"And my father was the wasting illness. And my mother was blood magic experimentation."

The air left Solana's lungs. "What?"

"I know. Trust me… you don't want to hear the whole story. She was…" He swallowed and his brow puckered. "She was kidnapped. I was too late to save her."

Her heart galloped in her chest. No wonder Anders was keeping his work with Fiona and Celeste secret. Solana wanted to know more. What kind of experiments? Experiments like the ones they'd been planning for the Red Templars? But she dared not ask. It was clearly still very painful. Instead, she wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. He rested his head on her shoulder and sighed.

"At least I have you, cuz. And the little one. And Cullen, I suppose, if he'll have me."

"Of course he'll have you," she said. "You know you're always welcome at our table, Hawke."

Like they had a table. Like they were anything close to a normal family. Still, he seemed to take comfort in that and patted her knee.

* * *

"Curly." Cullen jumped at the light touch of Varric's hand on his arm. He tore his gaze from the couple in the chantry and looked down at him.

Varric's eyes were wide with concern. "Don't do this." His voice was soft, soft enough so as not to alert Hawke and Solana to their presence. "Don't make this something it's not."

Varric thought he was jealous. Varric, always observant. He'd seen Cullen standing out here, staring inwards. He'd followed the line of his gaze to the bright circle where his wife had another man in her arms. He'd drawn the obvious conclusion, that Cullen was jealous.

He was. But not like Varric thought.

He didn't know how to put voice to his feelings, so he pulled away.

How did he explain how much he longed for that closeness? He hadn't felt it in… ages. And now it seemed impossible. Too much stood between them.

As he trudged through camp seeking the solitude of his tent, he passed Anders. The man held the baby to his chest and gently rubbed its back, but his eyes followed Cullen and his expression plainly echoed everything that was in Cullen's own heart.

That was not in the least bit comforting.


	56. Repulsion field

Solana was unprepared for Mia's hug.

It wasn't the polite show of greeting that she'd seen noble women in Orlais perform - shoulders pressed briefly together, faces turned to the side to avoid touching masks. This was a full on, suffocating, two-armed embrace. Solana found herself drowning in Mia's blonde curls, hands flailing. Then the older woman pulled away, still grasping her, eyes scanning her as if trying to read everything that had happened in the last two months.

Somewhere behind them, Rosalie gave a squeal of delight. "Oh, Cullen! Oh, she's so precious. She looks just like Solana, doesn't she? She's so small! May I hold her?"

"Certainly," Cullen answered. So formal, even here.

He'd been even more silent than usual on the ride from Lothering. The night before, she'd found him already asleep in their tent and he'd left before she awoke. The last words they'd spoken had been in Hawke's kitchen, when she'd asked about training with his family. Somehow, she'd managed to anger him again. Or, likely, he was _still_ angry.

 _I_ ** _don't_** _know who you are at your core..._

"What's wrong?" Mia wanted to know. She must have read Solana's expression.

Solana started to stammer something about being tired, but a heavy hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"We can talk inside," Cullen said.

The Rutherford home was large, but not in the way the homes in Denerim were large. This building had once been a small, stone cottage. Over the years, parts had been added with wattle and daub and thick wooden beams. Now rooms jutted out on all sides, and a second storey balanced above them.

Surrounded by Rutherfords, the party was herded inside with promises of tea and cake. Little Branson Junior was sitting by the front door, chewing on a wooden horse. His eyes went wide when he saw the new people and he gave a little nervous wail. Maralie scooped him into her arms. He kicked against her, flinging the horse down and then crying in anguish. Cullen bent to pick it up and handed it to him.

"Hello Branson," he said.

Branson stared at him.

"Say 'Hello, Cullen'," his mother instructed, turning so that Branson could get a proper look at Cullen over her shoulder.

"Hullo," he said.

Solana was impressed, but Cullen corrected him. "Hello."

"Hullo."

"Hel-"

"Cullen," Solana interjected. She touched his shoulder and he jerked in response as if she'd struck him. Then he nodded briskly and moved indoors.

The house smelled of raw wood and herbs. The entrance hall opened into the kitchen which was a large square room dominated by a table big enough to seat all of them. Bundles of elfroot, ginger, rosemary and other assorted herbs hung suspended from the roof beams, interspersed with lengths of sausage, and a plucked fowl that must have been dinner. A fire was roaring against the one wall, a teapot already steaming. It was late in the day and the light that filtered in through the windows along the adjacent wall was golden.

Was this similar to the home where Cullen had grown up? Around Solana, the room came alive with activity. People exchanged further greetings, Cullen was asked a million questions, Rosalie cuddled the baby and blushed when introduced to Hawke again. Solana couldn't imagine quiet Cullen feeling at home in a place like this. As Mia counted out mismatched teacups and Maralie comforted her moaning son, the men made conversation with the rest of the party. They wanted to know how Max was, what Anders did for a living, how Cassey found being a Grey Warden, all about Varric's crossbow. It was all too loud and too much. Solana stood at the centre of it, hugging herself, heart racing.

Maralie looked at her, bouncing Branson on her hip. "Your little one is so good. You're so lucky."

And then something in Solana snapped. Too little sleep, too long being strong. Heat rushed through her blood, into her chest, up through her throat. She spoke before she even knew she meant to. "Lucky? She's cursed. She's _broken_. Don't you _dare_ call me lucky."

Then the room was silent. Blessed silence that a mere moment before she would have been grateful for. But now it rang in her ears. Maralie looked stricken, even Branson's little mouth formed an 'O' of shock.

Solana stumbled backwards. She needed to go, to be away, to flee. Her feet carried her to the door and she fell against it, pushing it open with her body. Icy air slammed into her but she didn't stop running. Her boots pounded on the path down to the small stables where they'd lodged their horses, but she didn't stop, couldn't stop. She left the property. Running into the forest beyond, running until her lungs heaved, running until she wanted to be sick, before she fell to her knees in the dirt. The trees spun around her head. She wasn't strong enough yet for antics like this. Another stupid decision to add to the list. She swatted at her eyes, at the traitorous tears that were forming. The muscles in her legs convulsed and she huddled in on herself, struggling to regain her breath, struggling to calm her heart and her mind. Failing.

* * *

"Solana!" Cullen started after her, but Branson - senior - caught his arm and held him in place. He was right, of course. It would do no good for him to go after her now. Fresh anger burned in his chest, almost as hot as the embarrassment that heated his cheeks. "Maker's breath." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maralie, I... I apologise for Solana's behaviour. That was unacceptable."

"Cullen." Mia set down the teapot. Her voice was soft, but it rang around the room. "I think you need to tell us what's going on."

His letter to them had been brief, saying only that they were needed on an important quest and that they'd be leaving the baby there for a few days. He had kept it that way purposefully, believing that some things were best said in person or even not at all. But now, as every eye in the room focused on him, he felt he had no choice but to put it as plainly as possible.

 _Blood and ashes, Solana._ Why should he have to be the one to explain?

He sank into one of the kitchen chairs. "Solana is a Grey Warden. Grey Wardens keep secrets. One such secret is what gives them their abilities. It's the Blight." He took perverse pleasure in saying that. To the Void with her secrets. If she'd wanted to keep them, she could have been here herself.

"The Blight?" Rosalie was the first to break the stunned silence. "Is she… is she sick?"

"No," Cullen said, without looking at Rosalie. "Not presently. Although she will be in less than two decades, I am told. Their bodies can only fight it for so long. Then they are cursed to go find death in the Deep Roads. I accepted this when I chose to be with Solana, although it was… not without its challenges. What neither of us realised was that this taint would be passed down to our child."

There was an intake of breath from the assembled Rutherfords and Cullen pressed his eyes closed so he would not see their expressions.

"Additionally, before Solana realised she was with child, she undertook a dangerous mission that required she consume potions. Including lyrium."

"Not to mention, she walked in the Fade," Hawke interjected.

"She saved our lives by taking that potion," Max added. "I would have most certainly perished were it not for her."

Cullen's insides riled against the fact that these men were protecting his wife, while he was accusing her. But he swallowed his feelings once more. His family requested facts, that's what they would receive.

"That aside, the potion may have affected our child. She was born without the ability to feel emotion, or to dream. She was born Tranquil."

* * *

"Ser Samson?"

Samson forced his eyes open. It felt like they'd been glued shut. His mouth was dry, his lips were split, and he had no idea where he was. Caught between some red lyrium nightmare and the intense pain in his bones, the very last thing he was expecting to see was _her_. The thought crossed his mind that he had died, and it was Andraste herself leaning over him. Soft pale skin, long blonde hair that brushed his cheek, with a halo of golden light.

But he was in too much pain to be dead, and as he focused on the woman, he recognised her as the mage, and the halo as a trick of the light. He recognised his location as his cell, cold stone beneath his back, the smell of rot, hunger stabbing at his insides.

"What ya want?"

She smirked. "Feeling better, then?"

"Marginally." He tried to push himself to sitting, but his arms were too weak. "Although," he added. "I suspect that since you're here, I'm about to feel worse."

No doubt she had brought the next dose of whatever concoction they wanted to test on him.

Her smirk stayed firmly in place as she lifted one delicate hand. Between thumb and forefinger, she held a silver-trimmed vial. Blue, glowing, singing... He started salivating at the very sight of it. Like a dog, trained to beg for treats.

"What do you want?" he asked again. There would be a price. There was always a price.

" _Fiona_ wants you to be well."

Memories of the night before that had been foggy residue at the back of his mind suddenly came clear. The Grand Enchanter rushing in and, before that, what this woman had said. He was blighted. They were trying to cure him. He knew the red stuff was corrupted. He knew what it had done to Kirkwall, to that bitch Meredith, and to his men. And in retrospect… _I control the Blight,_ Corypheus had said, how many times? He'd been talking about his Wardens. Samson hadn't considered he'd also been talking about his Templars. Not that it mattered. He was just as dead either way.

"She wants me to be well so she can wreck me herself, then?"

"I told you, we're trying to cure you."

"But if it kills me in the process, no big loss, right?"

The woman's pale green eyes widened and she shifted back on her haunches, lowering the vial. "Ser Samson, you are dying."

"Yea, I am. And with any luck, I'll be gone before the Commander returns."

"Why?"

Her frank curiosity brought him up short. "What do you mean _why_? You daft or something? You _know_ who I am, what I _did_. You don't honestly think they'll let me get away with it?"

Her eyes travelled the length of him, her mouth twisted into a small frown. "You think Cullen will torture you?"

"Oh no, I don't think that. Have you met the Commander? He'll get someone else to do it. Doesn't have the stomach for it."

Her gaze dropped to her lap, where she toyed with the vial. She was silent for a long while and he managed to push himself up to a sitting position. His head spun, his neck felt too weak to support it. But he'd be damned if he continued this conversation with her looking down on him.

It struck him, for the first time, that she was sitting in his cell. She had to be a special kind of naive. He had half a mind to try something, just to teach her a lesson. But that would require energy he didn't have, and it would be ultimately pointless. It wasn't like he had anywhere to go.

"You have an opportunity," she said, startling him. She was still staring into her lap, but her voice and grown dark. "You can do something good with the life you have left. After all of the bad you've done..."

She held up the vial, offering it to him once again. "Fiona gave you a second chance. She sat by your side all last night, most of today. You have time now, if you want it. Time still, to make a difference." She rose, still holding the vial. "Or, you can let the withdrawal take you. Cullen won't be back for at least another week. I doubt you'll last that long."

She met his gaze again, and whatever she found there seemed to confirm that as his choice, because she turned with a sigh and opened the door of the cell.

"Wait." His pulse thrummed. He swallowed, doubting himself. Samson knew he was a coward. He would always be a coward. Death from withdrawal now was an unpleasant thought, but death brought on slowly by agonising experiments, or torture, or the wasting illness… or all three, one after the other, Maker forbid. That would be worse. That would be _far_ worse. He'd expected death, mentally prepared himself for death. He deserved death. Why should he live when he had asked his men and Maddox to die? But when he'd thought of death, he'd thought of the blade. Never this, never what she was proposing.

He reached out for the lyrium regardless.


	57. Lifeward

Solana heard the door open behind her and knew instinctively who it was. The muscles in her back tensed in preparation for the expected diatribe.

She'd returned to the house only a few minutes before, knowing her daughter would need to be fed. Disappearing into the forest was not an option anymore, as much as she yearned to run.

They'd all been sitting down to dinner already when she'd entered, and everything had stopped - the chatter, the movement of spoons and forks, even the chewing.

"The baby?" she'd asked as they stared at her.

Rosalie had brought her to this room. This room, up on the top floor, with its sloped ceiling and broad window. This room with the rocking horse and the crib and the soft rug and the pastel colours and a comfortable chair for feeding, where she sat now, and another comfortable chair piled high with stuffed animals. This room that was everything a small child could wish for. A shelf to her left held toys, ornaments, fresh flowers. A table to her right seemed to exist solely for changing.

Solana had found her daughter asleep in a beautiful bassinet, with a silken bow. It had felt a crime to wake her, so she had sat in the feeding chair, staring out of the window as the stars rose over Ferelden. She'd known it was only a matter of time before he came to chastise her. The fight that had been brewing for days seemed destined to happen now.

"Solana." His voice. She closed her eyes, bracing herself. "I… I don't even know what to say. Maralie -"

"Cullen." The second voice was Mia's. "Why don't you go downstairs? Branson has something he wants to show you."

"This is hardly the time."

"Just go."

Solana heard him inhale in annoyance before he acquiesced. "Very well."

His heavy footfalls receded from the door and Solana turned, unsure what to expect. Her skin was crawling with embarrassment. Cullen's family had shown her nothing but kindness, and she had been awful. She knew Mia was protective of Cullen and as she came into the room and shut the door behind her, Solana readied herself for a lecture.

But Mia perched on the other chair and leaned forward. "Tell me what happened."

"I… when?"

Mia smiled gently. "Between you and my brother. Has he been unkind to you?"

"No!" The word left her lips so fast that even she was startled by the harshness of it. "No, never. Has he… he hasn't said anything?"

"Nothing. Other than, well, he told us of your plight, and of your mission. I imagine it's a terrible strain on a relationship, this kind of thing."

Solana dropped her gaze. Yes, _this kind of thing_. Her cursing their child with her poisoned blood and her ill-conceived actions.

"I'm ill-suited to it," she said.

"I don't imagine anyone is well-suited to having a child in peril."

"No, I mean, the relationship. It's not his fault. I've… he has reason to be angry with me."

Mia was silent for a long moment, and when Solana glanced up at her, she was staring out of the window. "We would fight, him and I, like you wouldn't believe. Usually it would end with me storming off to cool down and him drawing into himself. Further and further like a coiled spring. Ask him what was wrong and he'd simply glare at you. If you were lucky. If you were unlucky, he'd pull out an itemised list of everything you'd said or done wrong in the last three months."

A chuckle escaped Solana, despite her mood. That _did_ sound like Cullen.

"One thing I know for certain," Mia said, "is that he loves you. Very much. I've never heard him talk about anyone, _anything_ , the way he speaks about you. He once had a similar passion. For the Templar Order before he joined, before he pledged his life to it. 'Helping the mages,' he'd call it. 'Protecting them'. When I learned he'd left, I never imagined I'd see that look in my brother's eyes again. And then he told me about you."

Mia's words may have been meant to comfort, but they made Solana feel worse. "He was mistaken about me. He's... admitted as much."

"Yet, he's here, isn't he? At your side."

A small sound came from the bassinet. And then a cry, anguished. Like a mewling cat. She must have been very hungry for her discomfort to bring her to tears. Solana's heart was instantly in her throat as she rose to fetch her child, but Mia was closer. She reached in and scooped her up. The baby was red-faced, eyes scrunched closed, mouth wide, tongue flat.

Mia passed her gently to Solana. Even though she was wailing, Mia's eyes shone with adoration.

"Shh, shhh." Solana opened her robe, more concerned with getting food to her child than with their audience. The baby's hungry mouth rooted for nourishment, but as soon as she found her target, she fell silent and still, suckling hungrily. Solana sat back, hugging her close and breathing deeply, her heart still pounding.

Mia was still looking at them, a soft smile on her lips and Solana wondered if that was something like the look she'd described seeing on Cullen's face. There was something Cullen about it. Cullen on their wedding day. Cullen in the weeks after. Not Cullen now.

"She should be yours."

Mia jerked. "What?"

"The baby. She should be yours. You'd make a better mother than I ever could." Solana's vision blurred. "She should have this room, this house, that field to play in, that forest to explore. It's unfair that she's mine. I can't give her anything. I can't even give her a _name_."

Mia's expression was stricken. "Solana, you're giving her something right now."

She snorted. "Any wet nurse can give her milk."

"That's not what I meant." Her eyes flicked down to where Solana was holding her daughter. "Love, Solana. You love her fiercely. You've travelled all this way for the chance to give her a better life."

Solana sniffed. "So did everyone in that room downstairs."

Mia shook her head. "They came here for you. Even Cullen. If I know my brother, he'd rather be trying to find the solution between the pages of a book."

Yes he would, at the expense of all else, even sleep.

"They're here for you. You're here for _her_."

The tears flowed freely now, and Solana was powerless to stop them. Mia's unexpected kindness had brought down the last of her emotional defenses. "Of course I am. I did this. This is my fault. Don't you understand?"

"Solana..." Patient, as if she was talking to a small child. "You didn't do anything."

How much had Cullen told her?

"I carry the Blight, Mia. I passed it to her. I should have realised -"

"But you didn't."

"But I did with the lyrium. I knew that it might affect her. Not how, but I _knew._.." There it was, the truth. She held her free arm across her face, hiding her eyes belatedly as grief overtook her.

Then, a soft hand on her shoulder and arms around her, pulling her as close as the feeding chair would allow. Solana didn't understand what was happening. Why did it make the ache in her chest feel so much worse? Why couldn't she stop crying? She was the Hero of Ferelden! And yet the sobs wracked her body until she was shivering and could hardly breathe, until the baby pushed away from her breast and Mia took her and held her up to her shoulder and patted her back. And Solana heaved in air and tried to find the words to speak, to tell Mia why she was guilty and undeserving of her sympathy.

"Did Cullen tell you how I learned I was pregnant?" she asked, eventually.

Mia shook her head.

"A nightmare demon told me."

Solana watched the look of surprise cross Mia's features, but to her credit she didn't say anything about abominations.

"Battle of Adamant." Solana hiccuped, wiped a hand across her cheek. "We went into the Fade. There was a demon. Listed our greatest fears. She was mine."

"You didn't want a child?"

Solana shook her head. "I didn't think I _could_ have a child, so I hadn't read the signs. But _it_ did. I thought… I expected it to say something about… about Cullen. But it asked me what I would do if my taint was passed down to my unborn child. That was it, my greatest fear. Worse than anything else it could find within me… and then I drank lyrium to defeat it. _Lyrium_. Knowing what it had told me. Knowing what I carried within me. Knowing it would likely do _something_ , even if I knew not what. I made the choice. She is my fault."

"But you saved everyone else. They said as much, after you left earlier. Your friends were quick to defend you."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I could have… let someone else be the hero."

"If you'd done that, it's possible neither of you would be here now."

Solana only shrugged.

Silence fell between them again, and eventually Mia stood. "You must be hungry. Come downstairs and I'll get you something to eat."

Solana shook her head again, aware of how her face must look. Aware that downstairs Cullen was waiting, and likely Maralie too.

"I'll bring you something up here then," Mia said. She offered a sad smile. "Why don't you get some rest? Your room is across the hall. I'll watch the little one."

The baby seemed quite content in Mia's arms, but then she usually seemed content. She chewed on her fist and stared at the room over Mia's shoulder.

Solana nodded, too drained to find the words.

* * *

Leaving the baby was more difficult than Cullen expected. And he was leaving her with his own family. He could only imagine how Solana felt. The whole way through breakfast, she cuddled her close and when it came time for them to take their leave, she kept kissing her and finding excuses to see to her. Mia had eventually pushed her bodily out of the house, reminding her that they intended to be at the inn by nightfall.

Still, she kept looking over her shoulder, even after the house had receded into the distance.

He'd offer words of comfort, only he didn't know whether any words from him _could_ be of comfort.

When Mia had finally returned downstairs the night before, Cullen had sought Solana out. As much as he disliked confrontation, he knew when one was necessary. He'd found her in the whitewashed room that was to be theirs for the night, curled up on the clean bed. She was awake, but physically pulled away from him when he sat upon the bed.

He'd spoken to her, as he'd intended to do before. He'd explained that she needed to apologise to Maralie, and that he understood his family was overwhelming to her but that they _were_ trying to help.

She'd been unresponsive. Eventually he'd sighed and buried his head in his hands and confessed that he didn't know what more to say. Had she even heard him?

"Yes," she'd said. Only that. Yes. No words in her defense, none of her usual fire.

"You spoke with Mia?" he'd enquired.

"Yes." Again, just that.

He'd given up and readied himself for bed. He'd lain flat on his back staring up at the rafters for ages, while she curled on her side next to him with her back to him.

Eventually he'd drifted off, only to wake from some nightmare hours later and find her gone. He'd been rattled enough to get up and wash his face. As he leaned over the wash basin, he'd heard low voices. Curiosity had driven him from the room. He'd traced the voices to the nursery. The door had been left ajar, warm candlelight pouring from within.

Solana had been sitting with Maralie while one of them - he dared not look and find out which - nursed. He'd caught the end of a conversation.

"...not imagine what it has been like for you these last months," Maralie said. "If Cullen had mentioned in his letter, I wouldn't have said…"

"...please," Solana had interrupted her. "You weren't to know. I'm the Hero of Ferelden, remember. I'm fine. It's Cullen and our little one who need help. We'll find it at Kinloch, I'm certain of it."

He had bristled at the implication that he needed help, flushed with embarrassment. She'd made him sound like a child. Did she not think him capable of handling the same amount of emotional strain as she? Did she truly believe her status as the Hero placed her so far above him? It shouldn't have surprised him, she evidently believed it placed her above the very laws of nature.

So what good would his platitudes be? He rode beside her in silence.

* * *

The Spoiled Princess was an odd name for an inn, Hawke thought as they rode up to its stables. Especially one with such an eerie view. Night was falling over Lake Calenhad and he could see the tower rising up before them, a single dark finger jutting out of the water.

A sign bearing a cheerful beer flagon danced in the wind coming up off the lake and its rusty hinges creaked.

"Am I the only one who has a bad feeling about this?" he asked without thinking.

"No." Cullen stared out at the lake, his back erect, his face expressionless.

Solana pulled up from behind him. "Home sweet home."

"Sweet, sweet home," Anders echoed.

The other Ferelden mage, Cassey, was silent.

"You know, I swore I'd never come back here again. Not alive, anyways." Anders sighed. "I need a drink. It's too late to set out now anyways. Let's spend the night here, yes?"

Hawke expected an argument from Cullen, but he merely nodded as he dismounted. Solana kept looking at him, but said nothing.

The inn was full of unexpected noise. There was drunken singing and an old man dancing on a table. Varric laughed and nodded appreciatively. Cullen paid for their rooms, and then swept through the crowd for the narrow staircase that would lead him to his bed. Solana did not follow.

"This dance again?" Hawke asked her.

"Don't look at me, I'm not the one on the table." Even though her words were light, her eyes didn't leave her husband until his boots disappeared from view.

"What's going on with you two?"

"Nothing."

Hawke didn't believe that for one instant. "Oh, right. You're behaving completely normally. Maybe we should ask the others. Hey, Varric -"

Solana snatched his arm and shushed him. Varric rolled his eyes over to them, but when Hawke didn't elaborate, he returned his attention to the drunk man's display.

Solana glared at Hawke. She was a little shorter than him, but even so, the force of the look was something. He shrugged innocently.

"You saw how I acted with his family." She spoke through her teeth. "You hardly have to ask why he's upset."

"Uh, no. Don't try that one. You've been like this since Skyhold."

"Let it go, love." Anders placed a hand on Hawke's shoulder. "She doesn't want to talk about it."

Hawke spun and he could tell immediately from Anders's face that he knew more than he was letting on. "Oh? And you're the expert are you?"

He was probably a bit harsh, but he riled at the interference. Anders's eyes went wide in affront and Hawke immediately regretted his words.

"Anders," Solana's look also spoke volumes. "It's alright."

To Hawke she said, "Cullen and I had an argument. That's all. He… he's under a lot of strain. You know what happened to him in that tower."

"I don't, actually." Hawke gave her an apologetic smile. "Kirkwall mage, not exactly his bosom buddy."

Unexpectedly, Solana paled. She dropped her eyes to her hands.

Again, Anders intervened. "Alcohol! Solana, come on. I'll buy you one. Been a while for you, hasn't it?"

Hawke watched Anders lead Solana to the bar. _Stranger and stranger…_ Anders didn't buy drinks as a rule. He hadn't, as far as Hawke knew, ever had an income. Circle mage, Warden, Darktown healer, and then Thedas's most wanted. Yet, he produced coin for Solana from _somewhere_ and pressed a flagon into her hands.

He'd saved her life, delivered her child. That explained it, didn't it? That kind of thing must create a bond.

 _Why does it make me so uncomfortable?_

Solana forced a smile and lifted the mug to her lips, holding it in both hands. Anders patted her back.

 _Am I jealous?_

* * *

Samson screamed again, and pulled his knees up to his chest. Celeste passed him a drink of water, but he knocked it from her hand. The mug shattered on the floor of his cell.

"Sorry." He sucked in air. "Sorry I didn't mean to - AH!"

He convulsed again. Celeste looked to Fiona. The Grand Enchanter's expression was pensive. "Can we do nothing for the pain?" Celeste asked.

Fiona shook her head. "We must make note of the side effects."

He heaved in air again. "Happy to be of servi… shit wanker fuck!" His right hand clung to the bars, knuckles white. But after the wave of pain passed, his eyes found Celeste's. "Don't pity me, mage. No one else does. You know what I - I've done."

Fiona sighed and stood, book of notes in hand. "What I don't understand, Ser Samson, is how you have survived this long without succumbing to the red lyrium. You should be quite insane by now."

"Who says I'm not?"

"Or," she spoke as if he hadn't said anything. "You should be one of those behemoths completely taken over by the lyrium."

He shook his head. "Why he chose me."

"Who, Corypheus?"

"Yeah," he gasped.

" _What_ is why he chose you?"

He laughed but it wasn't a happy sound. "My charm and good looks."

Fiona shook her head. His fingers went white on the bars again, and he grimaced, biting down on his pain.

It occurred to Celeste that Fiona was torturing him for information.

"Tell me what you know, Ser Samson. It could help us. Perhaps the next dosage we give you will be less painful."

He laughed again. "You bitch."

He'd realised it too and Fiona had lost the upper hand. She looked to Celeste and there was meaning in her look. Then she turned and left.

Celeste wished she hadn't understood what Fiona wanted.

She rose and poured Samson another mug of water, before returning to his side. He watched her. He wasn't insane. His eyes showed sharp intelligence.

"We used to do this too, you know." He forced out the words.

"Torture people?"

A bark of laughter, followed by a bleat of pain. "Yeah, well… not what I meant. It's the technique, isn't it? She threatens me, you give me kindness. Get me on your side. Maybe I open up to you, think we're friends."

"Fiona didn't threaten you," Celeste responded, not sure what else to say. She felt physically ill watching him.

"Yeah, she did. We both know it. Listen, I'm not holding out on you. I wouldn't still be here if I didn't wanna help end the fuckin' Blight. I'd be… be…" He lost the ability to speak as another wave hit him. "Something something side of the Maker, or Void or whatever bullshit. So you can tell your mistress I don't know anything. Alright?"

Celeste pushed the mug through the bars, careful to avoid his flailing limbs. She didn't even know what Fiona had given him. Dragon blood and something. Something with a number. Whatever it was, it must have been burning his stomach something awful.

 _He's a Templar, he was Corypheus's right hand. He deserves it._

Only looking at him squirming it was much more difficult to believe it.

"You mentioned the reason Corypheus chose you?"

"Look, best guess I have is lyrium resistance. I was on the stuff for what? Near on thirty years? And when he asked if I would destroy the Chantry I told him I didn't… didn't have the strength. Had the wrong man. And he just said he didn't. And gave me the red stuff. That's how it happened. That's - GAH!" He took several deep breaths, panting. "Probably the Chantry has the answers you want. They… they… know so much… hide it all. Probably had a cure for the fucking Blight all along."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thanks for hanging around through all this mopey angst. Poor babies. Things are about to get a bit more exciting.


	58. Time spiral

Author's note: Content warning for a bit of blood and gore. I will try my best to post the next chapter tomorrow!

* * *

Cullen did not miss the tower. He did not miss the mildewy smell of the dim docks beneath it, he did not miss the clutter of dusty boxes and carts lined up along the solid stone platform, and he certainly did not miss the ridiculously tiny boat that was the only ferry across the lake.

When the Inquisitor had declared that he wished to go first in case there were any unexpected rifts waiting for them - the Veil was thin at the tower after all - Solana had jumped at the chance to accompany him. Trevelyan had returned alone for the next passenger. At Cullen's insistence, he had taken both Varric and Hawke. Hawke had returned an hour later for Cullen and he had rowed back for Anders and Cassey. The return trip was a little unsettling - the heavy boat sitting low in the water - but he refused to delay things for a further hour in order to make one final trip.

"Do you suppose there are people living in the tower?" Cassey asked, squinting at it as if she could see any occupants from out in the middle of the water. Cullen couldn't even make out his wife standing waiting for them.

"You tell us, you were there last," Anders responded.

She blushed and hugged her arms around her knees. The three of them were pressed uncomfortably close together, Cassey forming a buffer between Cullen and Anders. (Another reason he had elected to bring them together.)

"I meant only that after we left, perhaps some others chose to make it their home. Poor people with nowhere else to go… or bandits, perhaps."

"I doubt that's the case," Cullen assured her. "It's an inconvenient residence even when fully staffed."

"I suppose."

"I mean relying on this boat for supplies… no more than two people leaving at any one time. It's ill-conceived."

Anders snorted.

"Something you care to share?"

"Oh, I'm only amused at hearing a Templar complain about his own prison."

"I hardly chose the location." _And I'm not a Templar anymore,_ he added silently. There was little point saying it, Anders already knew.

"Fair enough." Anders shrugged, staring out at a point on the far shore.

"If you don't mind me asking…" Cullen ventured. "You managed to escape from here several times. I assume you didn't take the boat?"

A smile tugged at the corner of Anders's mouth. "You'd be correct in that assumption."

He said no more and Cullen didn't press him.

* * *

The entrance hall was just as Solana remembered it. Despite the emptiness, despite the dust, despite the years, the familiar smell hit her like a _whomp_ to the chest.

 _Home._

Home, even though she didn't want it to be. Light came in from above, a stained-glass roof in swirling patterns now given over to decay. Dust motes danced. Ahead of them, a statue of a Templar holding out her shield, bathed in a ray of sun representing Andraste's holy light. Solana moved forward slowly, ahead of the others. To either side of them, wrought iron grating lined the walls in an intricate design representing the scales of justice. She had always wondered at its purpose, for between the outer wall and this grating there was nothing but space. Now she knew it for what it was. A double wall, an extra barrier to keep the mages in.

She had come to this area often as a child, hiding behind the columns and peeking at the Templars who guarded the main doors. She'd longed for the days that visitors or supplies arrived and she could catch a glimpse of the sky beyond.

She hadn't realised the injustice of it. It had been nothing more than a game. Mages had to be kept in towers, there was no other option. They were feared outside, and rightly so.

So many years, so many lies.

Her fingers brushed along the statue's shield as she passed it. Dust tickled her nose and nostalgia grasped her chest as her eyes landed on the row of small tables behind it.

There, off to the right, _her_ chess set. She had convinced one of the older mages to teach her. Chess had provided a better cover for watching the door than skulking behind a pillar.

The pieces were still laid out, as if abandoned mid-game.

She sensed someone behind her and turned, expecting Hawke or a sneering Anders. But it was Cullen, staring at the set as she was.

"I wanted to challenge you to a game," he whispered. "Many times."

"You'd watch me play."

"When I was on guard duty, yes. And sometimes when I was not." He swallowed, his eyes catching hers and then darting away.

Anders stood before the Templar statue and twisted his mouth in disgust. "Remind me why I agreed to come here again?"

In one swift movement, he flung a spell at the stone Templar. It shattered, scattering debris across the hall. The face skidded a good few metres, to where Solana was standing.

Cullen visibly tensed, staring down at it. He shut his eyes, swallowed again, and swept away. "We should proceed. To the library?"

Cassey didn't answer.

He looked around in obvious confusion. Anders was still scowling down at the statue's remains, Hawke beside him. Varric was humming to himself, examining a painting displayed above the desks. Max stood near the entrance, expression mirroring Cullen's.

 _Where was she? Had she gone ahead?_

"Here." She appeared at the entrance. "Yes, to the library. The enchanter's library."

She twisted the ring on her finger and Solana felt a fresh stab of guilt. It had to be hard, being here again without him.

* * *

Cullen kept his hand on his sword hilt as they moved down the dim corridor past the apprentice quarters. He was watching for trouble, listening for sounds that they weren't alone, but he was also distracted by Solana. He was aware of her every reaction. The way her fingers brushed along the stone wall, how she drew in a deep breath when they passed the entrance to the chamber that she had shared with the other girls her age. She hesitated a moment, eyes darting into the room, and he knew she wanted to go in there, chase memories. But she did not say as much. She did not speak at all.

Clouds of dust erupted out of the ragged red carpets beneath their feet as they walked. These carpets were a desperate attempt to bring some colour to this cold grey fortress. Everything else was dark wood, stone and iron. Even the spiral patterns along the walls did nothing to ease the mood of the place.

They entered the downstairs library and the mages automatically cast light from their staffs. No windows here. Once it had been lit with glowstones and braziers, but both had long since burned out.

Solana took another deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Are you well?" Trevelyan asked.

"Yes. This… this is where I grew up. My first lessons in magic, and my last. All here. It's… strangely comforting. The feel of the place."

"Comforting?" Anders laughed derisively. "How can you possibly find it _comforting_?"

"Solana wasn't a troublemaker, love," Hawke said and, in the glow of his staff, Cullen saw that his expression was not hostile. "I imagine the Templars were a bit nicer to her. Certain ones more than others." His eyes flashed to Cullen.

He riled at the implication. "I treated all my charges equally."

"He did," Solana confirmed. "But some caused him to stammer more than others."

"I…" He wasn't sure how to counter that. "That's not…"

"And there it is!" Anders declared.

They all started laughing and Cullen was glad for the dim light, surely none of them would see the colour rising in his face. "It is true that I had… thoughts about." He cleared his throat. He should have kept quiet. "But I never would have… and I never acted any differently with her." The laughter only increased. "Nothing _happened_ ," he insisted. "Solana, please."

"Nothing happened," she confirmed. "There was gossip and even that was enough to cause the Templars to punish him."

That brought him up short. "I believe you are mistaken."

"You think it was an accident they chose you to oversee my Harrowing?"

"No it was a - they - I oversaw other Harrowings, besides yours."

Still, her words made awful sense. It hadn't just been her test, it had been his too. A test of where his loyalties lay - to the Chantry, or to her.

"And would you have killed her?" Anders asked.

"Please don't ask me that."

"So yes, then?"

He could not answer, for he did not truly know.

* * *

It was difficult to imagine that life had gone on at the tower for years after Solana had last been here, clearing out demons and tracking Uldred. This emptiness was so similar to the desolation that she'd faced then. She led the party up the sweeping staircase to the second floor stock rooms. Here they saw the first signs of looting. The metal cage that housed supplies had been torn open and plundered. The broken remains of a myriad of magical items lay scattered across the ground, glinting in the dim light from overhead like a dragon's horde.

As she picked her way across the debris, she heard Anders sigh. It was so at odds with his antagonism that she glanced at him. He had picked up something off the ground.

"What have you found?" Hawke asked, toeing over to him.

"Nothing. I was just thinking." He turned the item over in his hands - some unidentifiable shard. "This is where I met Karl. He was trying to sign out… what was it? Dawnstone or… something equally mundane. The Tranquil on duty was giving him trouble. But he didn't get upset, he kept perfectly cool and reasonable. That was always his way. He'd give everyone the benefit of the doubt. Even me."

"Who's Karl?" Solana asked.

Anders didn't look up. "He was the reason I went to Kirkwall. But I was too late to save him from the Chantry." He cast the shard aside and sighed again. "Forgive me. We should press on."

Solana moved ahead but behind her she heard Max ask, "What happened? Did he manage to sign out this mundane item of his?"

"No." She could hear the smile in Anders's voice as he added, "But I stole it for him. Nearly got caught too."

* * *

Solana was first through the doors into the enchanter's library, and Hawke knew what they'd find the instant he heard her groan. This library did have windows - tall grey things that mimicked the swirling pattern of the ceiling - and the light they let in illuminated chaos.

The looters had been here too, no doubt seeking the rarer tomes. Books and papers were scattered everywhere, some clearly destroyed. A few shelves had even toppled over.

"Well, this is disappointing," Anders voiced what they all must have been thinking.

He strode forward, lifting up one of the scattered books to examine it. The inside had been torn out.

"Now that's just inconsiderate," Hawke said.

Solana turned to Cassey. "Where to now?"

The poor mage's eyes were wide and she was hugging herself. Clearly this development was unexpected. She moved forward with what appeared to be some effort, passing Solana. "He used to study here, this way."

They followed her to one of the many alcoves along the walls. A couple of desks were at the centre, covered in books and papers. Cassey looked around, seemingly bewildered. In her mind she must have pictured this place untouched.

"Well, let's spread out," the ever-pragmatic commander suggested. "We can start looking here, there might very well be something buried."

"Can you tell us what we're looking for?" Varric asked. "I mean, you know, what colour pen did he like writing with?"

Cassey fidgeted, eyes still wide. "He was researching the Blight."

Varric sighed. "Yes, I know. I… you know what, let's just start looking and see what we turn up. Maybe we'll be surprised."

Hawke started at one corner of the nearest desk that looked as if the ratio of papers to books skewed towards the former. He had a horrible feeling that they weren't going to find anything, that they'd been chasing nothing but false hope. He didn't dare voice anything of the kind. Solana needed this.

He picked up a stack of parchment and riffled through it, absently reading the first few lines of each page. He paused as something familiar caught his eye. _Andraste suffered at the hands of magisters. Thus, she feared the influence of magic._

"Hey, Anders, come here."

Anders stepped up beside him, close enough that Hawke could feel his body heat. He showed him the paper. "Found a copy of your manifesto."

"What?" Anders took the page from him and held it up to the light, peering at it through narrowed eyes. "How did this get here?"

Hawke chuckled. "You're famous."

Solana wandered over too. "The mages must have copied it out after your rebellion."

"Copied it out and added to it," Anders said, still squinting. "This bit isn't me."

"What bit?" Hawke asked.

"Something about the Divine and the Chantry suppressing some kind of knowledge. It's quite verbose. Is there another page?"

Hawke handed him the stack and he frowned as he sorted through it. "Here it is. They accuse the Chantry of suppressing a… a cure to..." He stopped speaking and he looked not at Hawke but at Solana. He passed her the page.

"Tranquility," she breathed. "There's a _cure?_ The Chantry knows of a _cure_! How could they keep this from us?"

The others drew closer as Solana furiously scanned the page. "They don't say what it is! They speak only of a ritual of -"

"It's possession," Cullen said, calmly.

All focus moved to him. Solana's eyes said she might well have set him on fire, had she been holding her staff.

" _What?_ " She was speaking through her teeth, advancing on him. "You _knew_?" She brandished the paper. "How long have you _known_?"

Hawke hurried after her, nervous that her anger was going to drive her to do something she'd regret. Cullen, to his credit, stood his ground. Had their roles been reversed, Hawke was certain _he_ would be running.

"What does it matter how long? It's not of any use to us."

"You had no right to keep this from me."

"It wouldn't have made a difference!"

"How long have you _known_?"

"A week, perhaps. No more than that. Cassandra explained that it's not reliable. It leaves the subject emotionally wrecked and -"

But Solana was no longer listening. She'd turned that fiery gaze on Max. "Did you know too?"

"Solana…"

"Max! Did you know?"

"I… yes. It's a Seeker thing. They use it as part of their initiation. A ritual makes them Tranquil and then they are released, but since they are only Tranquil for a few hours at most it doesn't have the negative effects. Cassandra was very specific about -"

"Who else knew? Who else -"

A scream rent the air and even as Hawke spun around he didn't realise whose it was.

Cassey had moved behind Anders while they'd been arguing and a knife flashed in her hand. Hawke was still trying to figure out what was happening as Anders fell to the floor, clutching at his neck, blood dripping from between his fingers.

Cassey stumbled backwards. Everything clicked into slow motion. The how, the why, none of that mattered. Anders was choking, gasping and Hawke was flying towards him, falling down before him. Anguished cries and angry shouts surrounded them, but Hawke's ears filled only with the roar of his own pulse. Green light sliced across the library, flickering across Anders's face. But Hawke didn't care, he pulled Anders to him, babbling a series of semi-coherent healing spells. There was so much blood. Hawke vaguely registered that Anders's throat had been slit, that the blood which should have been flowing down, was flowing up into the air. But the world around Hawke shrank, reduced to Anders's heavy body as he hugged him to his chest, to the air that shuddered from his lungs, to the spells as he poured every last bit of mana he had into them.

To the prayers.

 _No no no, Maker, please no._ He kissed Anders's forehead, curled his body protectively around him. _I can't. I can't lose him. Please._


	59. Blood Magic

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_

 _From here on, the story gets thick with my personal fan theories. While I have put research into them, I'm aware that they're not strictly canon and that they may differ from what others believe. I'm really hoping you find them plausible!_

* * *

Solana saw Cullen's eyes go large an instant before the scream cut her off. He was already unsheathing his sword and racing past her by the time she'd turned around and seen… Cassey.

But Cullen was too late. Cassey had already drawn the blade across Anders's throat, had already formed a powerful barrier, was already moving backwards, siphoning Anders's blood, by the time Cullen reached her.

A shower of bolts bounced off the barrier as Varric cried out, Hawke collapsed beside Anders, Max started moving forward, but Solana was frozen in horror, trying to reconcile what was happening with the kind woman who'd once saved her life.

Max continued to drift forward. He didn't have his weapon drawn and that alone gave away what was happening.

"She's got Max!" Solana screamed.

Cullen spun from where he'd been hacking at the barrier and watched in horror as the Inquisitor lifted his hand and it crackled green and the small, quiet Grey Warden achieved what even Corypheus had failed to do.

Magic sparked from Max's fingers and the library was bathed in a flood of green light. And then there was a rift hanging before them, open into the Fade.

Cassey backed towards it, pouring power into her barrier. Her eyes were shining with tears. "I'm sorry. He said he'd meet me here. I had to… he promised…" And then she turned and ran through the rift.

Cullen pounded after her, leaping through an instant later.

"No!" Solana's breath left her lungs as she surged forward. He couldn't survive in the raw Fade alone.

* * *

Hawke was vaguely aware of the rift, of Solana rushing through, of Varric swearing and following her, of the Inquisitor collapsing, with his arm stretched out, yelling in pain.

The man in his arms was all that mattered. But the man in his arms had gone still.

"No, Anders, please…"

How much blood had she taken? Hawke had stitched closed the wound with his magic, but how much air had Anders lost? He wasn't breathing. Hawke shook him.

"Please, love, don't leave me."

Months of confusion instantly gave way to perfect clarity. Hawke couldn't face a life without Anders. He couldn't even _imagine_ it.

"Maker, is he -" The Inquisitor, somewhere behind, out of breath.

Anders's hand was going cold as Hawke squeezed it. He'd seen death before, so much death. He knew this for what it was even as his mind refused to accept it.

Then, a flash of blue light. From somewhere on Anders's skin, Hawke's eyes weren't fast enough to catch it. Then another. Then more light, spilling across him, jagged and harsh like lightning.

 _Justice._

Justice had resided in a corpse before Anders and now he did once more.

He opened Anders's eyes - they were bright and sharp as crystal - and he coughed, reaching for his throat. "Well that was a singular experience," he croaked.

Hawke was shaking too hard to do anything to move the body from his lap, but Justice moved it for him, struggling into a sitting position, continuing to cough.

"You might wish to close that," Justice said to Max, his searing eyes landing on the rift.

Hawke turned finally to look at the Inquisitor. He was attempting to stand. "I can't. They went through..."

"If you don't, we'll have company soon and I doubt any of us is prepared for a fight. This one has been open long enough to draw attention. We will have to open another once the… attention dies down."

Hawke stared at him, this stranger in his lover's body. His stomach churned, his lungs heaved.

"You're going into shock," Justice informed him.

Max closed the rift, and collapsed back to his knees.

"What happened?" Justice asked him. "I was… preoccupied."

"The Warden, Cassey," Max said. "She slit your - Anders's - throat and used the blood to… it was unlike anything I've ever experienced. She took over my… I could see what I was doing, I could understand it, but I had no personal control. She made me open a rift. Cullen, Solana and Varric went after her."

"Hmmm," Justice said.

"That's it?" Hawke managed. "That's your contribution? Hmmm?"

Justice turned his glowing blue eyes on Hawke. "It is an expression of thought I have heard you use yourself on multiple occasions."

Hawke struggled to his feet. "Anders is _dead_. Don't you have _anything_ to say about that?"

"Ah," Justice said. "I see."

"You _see_?"

"Yes, I see why you might be upset. I should have clarified earlier, forgive me."

" _Clarified_?"

"Anders is not dead. He was weakened by the loss of blood and air, so I have taken control for now. I apologise for the confusion."

* * *

The space felt similar to the library. It was structured the same. Pillars of stone had been substituted with pillars of bone, grotesque statues stood on plinths that, in the material world, had displayed the likenesses of dejected-looking mages. Solana had entered the Fade running, shouting for her husband. But now there was no sign of him, or of anyone else. A shiver chased up her spine and she took hold of her staff.

It wasn't the first time she'd walked the Fade alone, nor the first time she had been physically _in_ the Fade. But it was the first time she'd achieved both together. She recalled the demons they'd faced at Adamant, the horrors within the Sloth Demon''s maze, and her grip tightened.

She moved forward cautiously, feet sloshing in the putrid water, muscles tense.

"Cullen!"

Shouting was not a good idea. She'd soon draw attention. But the alternative was going back without him, and that she couldn't do. Fear settled in her chest, heavy and cold. Cassey had shown what she was willing to do to Anders - what would she do to Cullen?

The sound of sobbing drew Solana's attention. It was coming from one of the darkened alcoves.

She crept forward towards it, preparing herself for a trick, remembering the lessons Irving had taught her all those years before about demons and deception.

Cassey was seated on a plinth that likened one of the library desks. Her face was buried in her hands, her shoulders were shaking.

"He should _be_ here!" she said.

Solana threw up a protective barrier. "What in the Void are you doing, Cassey?"

She looked up sharply, Solana's sudden appearance clearly unexpected. "I know what you did. I know that you killed him. He told me."

"He _told_ you? Cassey, Falin's dead. He can't _tell_ you anything."

Cassey brought her own staff in front of her threateningly. "That's not true. He found me in my dreams. He told me he'd be waiting here. To bring the Inquisitor so he could open a rift and we'd be together again."

"In your _dreams_?" _Shit_ "You _know_ what approaches mages in their dreams. Wait, to bring the Inquisitor?"

But she hadn't brought Max. Max had decided to accompany them alone. At the last minute.

No... not alone. _Cass convinced me..._ Solana had assumed Cassandra because what other 'Cass' would Max spend time with? But Max never shortened Cassandra's name. "You talked him into joining us."

Cassey didn't answer, only scowled.

"There's no cure research, is there?"

Cassey snorted. "As if the Circle would let him research anything like that."

Solana's blood ran cold with bitter disappointment, despite everything. "You made it up because you knew we'd come."

"I don't understand why he's not here!"

"I _am_ here."

Cassey scrambled to her feet and Solana pivoted to face the voice behind her.

Falin. He looked so real that even Solana struggled to remember what he really was. Cassey ran into his arms, all else forgotten. But while he hugged her close, his dark eyes stayed on Solana.

"If it isn't the Hero of Ferelden." He gently detached Cassey and moved towards Solana.

"If it isn't Desire," she responded. "Am I correct?"

It chuckled and reached out to touch her, but she danced away. "Cassey, this isn't Falin. This is a demon."

"He told me you'd say that."

"That's right," it said. "I did." He turned to Cassey again. "Where's the Champion? And the Inquisitor? I thought you were bringing them too?"

"Oh, Andraste's ass." Varric emerged from behind one of the pillars. Relief surged through Solana as he cocked Bianca. "Don't tell me you're trying to collect the set? You're a little old to play with dolls aren't you?"

The demon scowled. "You weren't invited, dwarf."

"Never stopped me before."

He fired a volley of bolts. Solana threw more mana behind her barrier and Cassey dived in front of 'Falin', one of the bolts piercing her shoulder. She screamed while Varric reloaded.

"Let me guess, Anders was invited along to power this venture with his blood?" he asked, firing another volley. The demon swept the bolts aside as Cassey clung to him, weeping.

"I suggested she use the _Templar_ , but she reckoned the apostate was more deserving. After all, if he hadn't started his rebellion, I would never have died. We'd still be living here together. Isn't that right?"

Cassey was trembling, but she nodded. "He killed so many."

"Where is Cullen?" Solana demanded. _If the demon had already wanted him dead..._

"He came after Cassey, I had to protect her," the demon said.

Solana's heart clenched and she felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs. "Protect her _how_?"

"Hey! Hero. Later, please? Let's get rid of the nasty demon first?" Varric shouted.

She ignored Varric. "Protect her how?! What did you do to him?!"

"I'll make a deal with you." The demon smiled, showing off Falin's small uniform teeth. "I tell you where he is, you open your mind to me." It chuckled. "I'll even help you save him."

"So, he's still alive?"

"Think about it, more power than you could ever imagine…"

Solana sent a ball of fire straight into the demon's chest. The thing skidded backwards and Cassey fell to her knees. Her eyes were wide and frightened. Perhaps she was finally realising what was happening.

That thought was short-lived. She lifted her staff and sent a barrage of jagged lightning at Solana. It crackled along her barrier, shattering it. Before Solana could cast again, the demon opened Falin's mouth and shrieked. The sound was like a physical force, hitting Solana's ears and rampaging through her blood, scratching at her insides, leaving her paralysed, drowning out awareness of anything going on around her.

She snapped back to the action in time to see the demon hauling Cassey to her feet. She looked up at it with nothing but love and devotion.

Then it disappeared.

Solana blinked, trying to clear her vision, convinced that it was a trick. But then Cassey turned slowly towards her, no longer seeming to even feel the wound in her arm.

 _Shit._

"She's possessed!" Solana yelled to Varric.

"I can _see_ that."

Cassey raised her arms and air whipped around her. Solana recognised the spell instantly, but it was already too late to get away. Still, she stumbled backwards, casting her barrier again as the wind tore at her skin, her hair, her clothes. Even Varric was pulled closer by the growing tempest. He launched a bolt, but it was pulled off course by the wind, only just grazing Cassey's arm. Solana could tell he was swearing by the rapid movement of his mouth, but the roaring of the storm around them drowned out his voice.

Electricity sliced through the wind. Solana's barrier fell and then the rampant lightning was sparking across her skin, searing white hot pain across her senses.

"You killed him!" Cassey cried above the gale. "You led us to the Wardens and then you killed him! You led us to the Wardens and then ran!"

"I was trying to help," Solana said through gritted teeth, not knowing whether Cassey even heard her, knowing that even if she did, her words wouldn't make a difference.

"You left us there! You ran to your lover and abandoned us!"

"I went for help!"

"It's not fair! You get everything. The title, the husband, the child. You appreciate none of it." She sent forth another barrage of lightning, hitting Solana in the stomach. Her knees gave in and she landed on them hard. But the shock of pain travelling up her body wasn't nearly as painful as the words.

"I loved Falin for half my lifetime. When the Circles fell, we should have been together. You took that from us! You are _no_ hero!

A bolt flew into Cassey's back and exploded. Shrapnel and flame caught in the wind, flying past Solana and narrowly missing her face.

She pressed her hands against her ears as the demon screeched again. She had to focus. Cullen was alive. Somewhere. He needed her. She struggled to her feet, feeling for her power, the well that had lain dormant for too long. She couldn't even see Cassey through the gale now, through the spinning, flaming wind. But she could _feel_ her. She could feel the taint.

Concentrating on that, on that familiar Grey Warden stain on her consciousness, Solana pulled on her mana reserves, pulled on her energy, pulled on her willpower, and let it out in two successive spells. First, Winter's Grasp, flying through the maelstrom and freezing Cassey solid. And then, before the demon had a chance to break free, a Fist of Stone. It slammed into the frozen mage, shattering the ice and driving her backwards.

The storm stopped and the demon roared. Cassey's skin tore away and purple limbs struck out with a cone of flame. Solana tumbled away from the fire, feeling the heat briefly brush her side. Varric unleashed another hail of bolts and Solana managed to lift her barrier again just in time. But the demon was too slow, or too drained. Bolts pierced through its supposedly seductive body, through the ribs and the arms and the thighs. With one final howl, it collapsed to the ground.

It trembled one last time, and then Cassey's body was lying face-down in the shallow waters of the Fade.

Solana heaved in air as Varric approached the body, cautiously. "Is it dead?"

"Yes. I can't feel her anymore."

Just to be certain, Varric prodded her with his toe.

A hand flew out and snatched his ankle.

"Solana…" Cassey croaked.

Whatever she had to say, she didn't get the chance. Varric aimed Bianca down and fired. The hand around his ankle fell limp.

Solana stared at the body, her pulse still thrumming in her ears.

"Is she dead _now_?" Varric asked, looking up at her expectantly.

"I didn't feel the taint," she breathed. "The demon must have… I don't know."

Varric narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying being possessed by the demon cured her?"

"The demon wouldn't want a tainted body. Fiona… in the Fade with Maric. She said a demon... What if that was… oh, Maker. That would explain it."

"Alright, hold on there. Firstly, I don't understand half of what you're saying. Second, Anders is a Grey Warden, right?"

"But he's not possessed by a demon."

"No, not _exactly_."

"Seekers are immune to the effects of red lyrium."

"Yes…" Varric said slowly.

"Red lyrium carries the Blight."

"Ye- wait, how do _you_ know that?"

"Seekers are briefly possessed, as part of their initiation. Isn't that what Max just said? _Why_ would they do that? Why, if it didn't give them some kind of _power._ What if it explained the red lyrium resistance, why the Seekers couldn't serve Corypheus? And what if it wasn't just immunity to the lyrium, but to the Blight itself? That's the cure, Varric. It's not Alistair's blood." Her emotions were so tangled. Relief and fear fighting for dominance in her chest. Suddenly the way forward seemed startlingly clear.

"Alistair's bl… you know what? Never mind. Let's go find your husband, then try to find a way out of here. And let's hope we don't have any nasty surprises along the way. I'm running low on bolts."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

 _I will answer the 'why not Anders' question later, don't worry._

 _So my feeling is that Fiona was *probably* cured by carrying Alistair, but there was no way I could use that here considering Al is dead and gone. It was Cassandra's personal quest that put me on to this. Lucius says specifically "we are abominations" and it's moments after Cassandra says that the Seekers are immune to the Red Lyrium corruption. I only read The Calling after forming this theory, so you can imagine how delighted I was when Fiona actually had the decency to get possessed._

 _Even though this wasn't my original head canon, I've started to prefer it. It's adds some dark(er) overtones to some in game stuff. Like if you play In Hushed Whispers, it makes Alexius's whole thing so much more heartbreaking. He says Corypheus promised there was a way to cure Felix. There was. By making him an abomination. Urgh._

 _So anyway, I hope you like it too (or can at least accept it!)_

 _More explanations happen in story, so I won't say much more until those chapters :)_


	60. Waking Nightmare

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Content warning for violence and mention of torture.

* * *

Cullen knew the moment he entered the Harrowing Chamber that he'd made a mistake. He was panting from the run up, he'd been going so fast - as fast as he could in his heavy armour - that he hadn't even quite registered where they were going until they were there.

Cassey turned to him, standing in the centre of the room. She smiled, and then everything went black.

* * *

The screams rent Cullen from his sleep. Desperate, throat-splitting screams that sent his pulse tripping. He blinked in the dim light, and tried to move. But his limbs were frozen.

He could smell it, the room. _That room_. It smelled of iron and lyrium and the scent choked him instantly. He struggled, trying to will himself to move.

He knew this dream, complete with the accompanying sleep paralysis. He tried to reason with himself as his heart slammed in his chest. He was asleep. He had to be asleep.

A light drifted in and he knew that light too. A small ball that seemed to move of its own volition. But that was a trick, it was attached to a mage's staff.

"I'm dreaming," he said out loud, pressing his eyes closed against the light.

"You keep saying that," the mage said. Too close now. A familiar voice, a woman. She had been tormenting him for weeks already. No. That was in the past. Many years ago.

"This is a dream," he said again, through gritted mage reached forward and touched his cheek, magic sparking along his skin. He wanted to pull away, but he couldn't.

"I suspect that's why he hasn't broken yet. He has such a _rich_ fantasy life. Who knew he harboured such feelings for that little redhead."

Another voice spoke in the shadows. "Perhaps I should dye my hair red, then he might not be so _reluctant_."

Cullen's stomach turned to ice and he struggled again to move, to _wake up_.

"Tell us about Solana again," the second voice said. "Tell us about your wedding. I love that story. Especially the part where she promises to protect you and guard you from harm."

Cruel laughter followed that statement.

"No, no, not that one," the first voice said, and Cullen could hear the laughter in it. "I like the one where she asks him to stay the night and falls pregnant. Tell us about your beautiful little baby, Commander."

He kept his eyes closed, breath already becoming ragged. It wasn't possible, was it? That she had never come for him, that _she_ had been the dream? He tried to focus on the smell of her hair, on the feel of her skin. But it was the cool indifference that came to him first. The way she'd rushed to travel to the tower with Trevelyan. If his mind had constructed a story, could it not have constructed something _better_?

"She is real. You are the dream," he repeated.

"It's so sweet how he has faith in her, even now," the first voice said, touching his face again.

"Get your hands off me," he snapped.

"But you haven't been touched in such a long time," the voice said. "Even your fantasy wife has stopped touching you."

More cruel laughter.

Then another voice, to his right. "Leave him alone."

Heat rushed through Cullen. Embarrassment, fear.

"Annlise?" His voice emerged little more than a whisper. He searched the darkness beside him, trying to see some trace of her.

"We weren't talking to _you_." The mage's staff light bobbed in her direction. And there she was, only just caught in the dim light. She was frozen like he was, hands against the wall as if manacled. Her face was streaked with dirt and blood, her dark hair was greasy, her lips were chapped. Below her eyes were the telltale dark marks of lyrium withdrawal. But she jutted her chin out at them.

"If you wanna try break someone, try break me. Cullen's long gone already. His mind's only half here. You want to try your pathetic powers against a _real_ Templar? Try break _me._ "

 _At first the maleficarum had tortured with wild abandon. They'd taken their frustrations out on the cruel ones first. Personal vengeance was had, in the most creative ways they could find. Once those men and women had been dispatched of, their bodies lying in piles along the side of the room, the mages had started playing._

 _They explored their new powers in increasingly inventive ways. How far could they push the body before it broke? How far could they push the mind before it snapped? What could a single man survive? What could a woman endure?_

 _They went easier on those who had shown them kindness, whose only crimes were being unattainable objects of desire, or who had turned a blind eye to seemingly innocent transgressions._

 _The first of these to go was the man who had trained Cullen, the one who had taken him from Honnleath, who had taken him under his wing. Knight Captain Beval had endured for many hours. In the end, he had begged to die. The mages had forced his men to watch. Paralysed, they'd been unable to even look away._

 _It was then that Cullen had lost hope. He had stopped praying to the Maker, praying that someone would call for the Rite or send an army or burn the Tower to the ground. While the Blight ravaged Ferelden, the Maker no doubt had other concerns._

 _Cullen had escaped into his mind, imagining himself anywhere else. Deep in the throes of withdrawal, aching and shivering and thirsting, he had caught himself mumbling more than once._

 _Perhaps that's how they had obtained knowledge of his infatuation with Solana? Perhaps they had not read his mind, but had heard him speaking it? She'd been the one pure thing left in his memory and it was to her that he retreated when they turned their attentions to him or his friends._

 _When they murdered his close friend, Farris, he had not been watching them strip his skin. He had been picturing her. Sitting downstairs, playing chess. He'd been watching the light brush her hair and her lips. He'd been trying to predict her next move. He'd been picturing her glancing up and smiling at him. He had imagined a dark, cool garden. A space that had never existed, where she could take him into her arms and hold him._

 _It wasn't enough for the mages to invade his body, they had to invade his mind too. They forcefed him potions that caused him to hallucinate, that twisted his fantasies. He wasn't entirely sure, even years later, what they had done to him and what they had only made him_ think _they had done._

 _Was it so ridiculous to imagine that those very years had been just one more hallucination? One more fantasy?_

Annlise was pulled forward and glow stones around the room came to life. Freed from her paralysis, she put up a token fight. She kicked out at the mages, tried to swing a punch. But their magic suppressed her. Weakened by her withdrawal, she was no more threat to them than a newborn nug.

At her best, she had downed even _him_. More than once. First, as an over-competitive sparring partner. Then, as a lover. His first. He'd been a stuttering mess, but she had guided his hands and his body. She had driven their relationship with the same relentless determination she showed in battle. But it hadn't taken her long to realise that he wasn't the prize she'd first thought. He was dedicated to the Order, to his position. His days were filled with his duties, his nights with research, training and prayer. She'd grown tired and eventually had ended things.

Was it so ridiculous to imagine that he'd projected those same insecurities over his fantasy relationship with Solana? Still, he chose his duty over her. And she showed the same single-mindedness that Annlise had.

He choked on the thought, longing to huddle into himself, to turn away as magic cracked across Annlise's skin, as she screamed and twisted against the pain. Each lash of magic they inflicted on her, he knew they had meant for him. Each spell that landed sent a jolt through his own body, tore at his heart. Skin he had once caressed was seared with flame, hands he had once held were mangled in ice.

"No! Stop!" He shouted until he was hoarse. "I'll do anything for you. Please stop hurting her."

But they were encouraged by his protests. Her torture became his.

He trembled as much as the paralysis would allow and at one stage the second mage turned to him, with mad eyes that showed she was tempted by his offer of _anything_.

"Oh look, he's crying."

The other mage turned too, and started moving towards him with a grin. But Annlise kicked out, hurling a globule of spit at her. It landed on the mage's cheek and her rage was instant. A cage of lightning surrounded Annlise and she jolted violently, neck whipping from side to side as the electricity coursed through her.

The door slammed open but Cullen dared not look to it. He was transfixed by Annlise's ragdoll body. He could not bear the sight of more maleficarum.

Feet ran up to him and he vaguely heard his name. _That_ voice. He closed his eyes, insides churning. He knew what would happen if he acknowledged this vision. They'd torture her too. That's why they were doing this, why they'd created her. They saw what their antics with Annlise were doing to him, they wanted to push him further. There was one surefire way.

"Cullen! Oh, Maker."

"Uh... Hero." Another familiar voice. This one far less expected. Cullen opened his eyes. Varric was standing nearby staring at the mages, at Annlise in her lightning cage.

His stomach clenched. His mind might make up Solana, but why would it make up Varric?

"Demons," Solana said. She was out of Cullen's line of sight and he couldn't turn his head.

"Any ideas?"

Before she could answer, one of the mages turned and quite calmly cast a whomp of magic. Varric went skidding backwards, swearing.

Solana! Where was Solana?

The maleficar advanced towards Cullen again. "Now this should be fun."

"No!" Annlise cried. "You're not done with me! Leave him!"

But the mage ignored her, continuing to Cullen but not stopping when she reached him. She moved past him, to where his eyes couldn't reach.

A yelp of pain.

"No!" She was a vision. She was not real. But her voice was tethered to his heart nonetheless.

At once, the paralysis spell lifted from him, and he fell forward, chin slamming on the stone floor. He scrambled to his knees, heading blindly for where he'd heard her cry out. But he crashed against something. A barrier that was all too familiar.

Solana was pressed up against the wall, suspended with her arms out, her feet half a metre off the ground. The maleficar prodded her in the stomach with her staff and Solana yelped again.

The bloodmage turned to Cullen with a grin. "Thought you might like to see this."

Turning away from Solana was a mistake. She was still holding her staff, and the maleficar must have underestimated her power. With a blast of energy, she broke free, tumbling to the ground. She launched herself bodily at the other mage and they went over in a tangle of limbs.

The second maleficar called Cullen's name. As his attention snapped to her, she set Annalise alight.

"No!" He slammed against the barrier, throwing his entire weight at it.

Bolts rained down from somewhere. Magic tore across the room. But Annlise screamed and that was all Cullen could hear.

Then, arms around him, and he fought against them, breath tearing at his throat as he yelled and yelled.

"Cullen."

Her cool hand on his cheek, like that night in the mountains. Her palm pressing against his jaw, turning his face away from the flame, from Annlise's suffering.

"You must help her!"

"Shh…" Her arms wrapped around him again, she pulled him close, pulled his head down so that it was buried in her hair, against her neck. He breathed her in.

"You have to help her." His voice was broken, he was shivering, his cheeks were wet with tears.

She tightened her grip around him. "It's a demon, Cullen. You're in the Fade."

The Fade… running after Cassey. Now he remembered.

He clung to her. Real. His wife. His Solana.

The events around them were as real as she was, but they were in the past. They were memories.

She stroked his hair and kissed his temple and held him as he quaked and sobbed. There was no dignity, no pride in this. But he was beyond worrying about such things.

"You saved me once again," he said at last, when he could find his voice.

"Sure, give her the credit," Varric said, somewhere behind them. But when Cullen glanced up, he was smiling.

There was nothing left of Annlise.

* * *

"Here." Justice pointed at the air in front of them. He narrowed Anders's eyes then nodded confirmation and stepped back.

Trevelyan stretched out his hand. "I'm accustomed to closing rifts, not opening the things. I'm not entirely certain how to do this."

"I've seen you do it twice," Hawke said. "Now's not a great time for a crisis of confidence."

They'd walked the tower flat. Justice, as a result of his connection to the Fade, and because of the Warden blood in the body he inhabited, was somehow able to sense Solana. At least, that's what he claimed, and Hawke had no choice but to trust him.

It was bizarre, walking next to Anders without it really being Anders. And this other person knew Hawke as well as Anders did. This other person had been there, for _everything_ , had witnessed touches and kisses and so much more.

Now, that person frowned at Hawke. "You are upset."

"Am I?" His voice was flat.

Trevelyan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Hawke could see he was trying, although nothing happened.

"You are," Justice said. "Are you angry with me? Or have I done something to upset you?"

Hawke almost laughed. He expected those sorts of questions from Anders, not from Justice. "I just saw someone slit your throat."

"And this has an effect on you?"

Trevelyan sighed, lowered his hand and flexed his fingers. Then lifted his arm and tried again.

"Yes, it has an effect on me," Hawke said to Justice. "I love you. Anders. I love Anders."

"But I did explain to you that Anders will be well."

Hawke growled.

"Would it help you if I offered you a hug?"

"What?"

"Anders holds you when you are upset and it seems to bring comfort."

"No. No thanks."

A flash of green caught Hawke's eye and Trevelyan gave a whoop as it grew. A split in the Veil. A rift. "I did it! Ha ha! Where are they now, Justice?"

Justice scrunched up Anders's face again and pointed back behind them.

"I'll go," Hawke said, unslinging his staff.

* * *

They did not speak as they left the Harrowing Chamber. What was there to say?

Cullen was still shivering, and Solana kept her arms around him, hoping to bring at least a little comfort.

Eventually, as they descended to the third floor, Cullen asked softly, "What became of Cassey?"

"Demon," Varric provided.

"It's my fault," Solana admitted.

"Don't start that again. You carry enough guilt as it is for what happened to her and the elf with the Wardens. That was the Wardens' fault, not yours."

It was kind of him to say, and she appreciated it, but she shook her head. "I should have made her return with us, after Adamant. She wanted to travel. I… recognised her grief. I gave her leave to go. I am certain that was how the demon approached her, when she was vulnerable and alone."

"It is likely," Cullen said, his voice still little more than a whisper. "But that doesn't make it your fault. You can not be held responsible for the actions of every lonely mage."

She didn't know how to respond, she could only look at him. She would have expected him to be the first to point out her error. His eyes were downcast. She wanted to argue with him, tell him that it was still her fault because that lonely mage had been under her command. But there was something more important to discuss with him and it played on her mind.

"Cullen…"

But was now really the time for it? After everything he'd just been forced to witness _again_? He was clearly traumatised enough without her sharing what she'd discovered about the Blight.

He looked at her expectantly, eyes still so incredibly sad.

"I love you," she said instead.

A small smile played at his lips, the corner with the scar pulling upwards a little more than the other. "I…"

"Solana! Over here!"

Hawke came running up behind them, waving frantically with the green glow of a rift behind him.


	61. Vessel of the Spirit

"Well, shit."

They stood on the docks, staring out at the lake, all likely thinking exactly what Varric had voiced.

The sun was low, painting the clouds pink and the sky orange. It made the lake look like it was on fire. An apt analogy, Hawke thought, considering the boat drifting out in the middle of it looked like it had indeed been in flames.

"That would explain where dear Cassey was earlier while we were admiring the entrance hall," Hawke offered.

Cullen kicked the wooden post where the boat was meant to be tethered in an uncharacteristic display of frustration. Solana hadn't said anything about where they'd found him, and Hawke didn't dare ask.

Trevelyan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We might have to camp here tonight, try find a way back in the morning."

"No," Solana said. She snaked an arm around Cullen's waist and her eyes flicked to him before she turned to Justice. "He knows a way."

Anders looked affronted. He blinked at her. "Pardon?"

"Anders escaped from this place seven times. You said Anders is still there."

"He is."

"Then he can get us back."

"It's… more complicated than that. I can't simply access all of his memories at will. You humans… your minds are so complex..."

"Then let us talk to him."

"He is weak. I am fortifying him. It would be best if you let him rest."

Hawke placed a hand on Anders's shoulder and Justice glared at him. Then, miraculously, the look softened.

Justice sighed. "Very well." He closed his eyes and then slowly opened them again. As he did, Anders's knees gave in. Hawke caught him and he found himself looking into Anders's face again. There was nothing markedly different about it, besides the eyes. He was just… Anders.

Hawke's pulse quickened, warmth surging through him. Anders really was alive. "Hi," he said, stupidly.

Anders gave him a feeble smile. "Hi yourself."

"Anders." The relief was palpable in Solana's voice too.

"I heard we need a way off the island?" Anders asked. He tried to get his legs under him, to bear his own weight, but failed. Hawke kept his arms securely around him, relishing in his presence.

"Solana, you know where the storage tunnels are?" Anders asked.

"Yes."

"We'll start there."

"Of course, the tunnels," Cullen muttered.

Anders grinned. "Yes, Commander. The _tunnels_. I… I'll see you there."

With that, his head lolled back and, an instant later, Justice lifted it.

* * *

Solana waited until they were moving up one of the narrow staircases to take Justice's arm.

"May I speak with you, please?"

He raised Anders's eyebrows and looked down at where she held him, but made no move to draw his arm away. Varric moved passed them, giving Solana a knowing look.

Nothing escaped that dwarf.

Solana waited a beat, until they were definitely alone. Trevelyan was at the front, with Cullen just behind him. Hawke had been trying to stay as far away from Justice as possible. Solana had been listening while they moved, to make sure that the sound wouldn't echo up, now she waited until Varric's footsteps were no more than a soft tap tap in the distance.

"If this is about Anders's welfare..."

"It's not."

She dropped his arm.

"I suggest we not dally too long," Justice said. "The veil is thin here, we should avoid getting cut off from the group."

Solana took a deep breath. "Firstly, I wanted to thank you. That night, with the bear. I know it was you who saved me."

Justice inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I am glad I was able to provide assistance."

"Secondly, I wanted to ask you something more… personal."

"Personal?" Doubt crossed his features. "If this is about how much of what Hawke and Anders do together I am aware of, I'm afraid I cannot -"

"What?"

"That's usually what people wish to know. But I'm afraid I would not be comfortable disclosing those details."

Solana shook her head, caught between amusement and horror. "No, I definitely _don't_ want to know that. This is… it's about the Taint."

"Ah, that's what you Wardens call the corruption that you carry in your blood?"

"Yes." She swallowed, trying to decide what to say. The thumping of her heart in her chest was louder than any other sound around them, it was making it difficult to think. "When… when I fought Cassey earlier, she was possessed. When she died, she no longer carried the Taint."

Justice smiled benignly. "I'm uncertain what you're asking."

"Well, I… I want to know how come Anders does. Carry the Taint. And you. At the same time."

"Ah." Justice started moving up the stairs again, and for a horrible moment Solana thought he would refuse to answer. "Well, I am not a demon."

"I know that," Solana said, following him.

"Yes, but I don't think you realise what it means. Most don't. I'm not possessing Anders in the sense that the demon you fought possessed your friend Cassey. I am resident, but we share his body. I have not taken it over."

"I don't understand how this applies to the Taint?"

"Well, this is an analogy you might understand. When we were in Kirkwall, I witnessed that some people would lend their homes to others, for instance, refugees, in exchange for coin. Are you familiar with this concept?"

"Leasing?"

"Indeed. Well, I am leasing Anders's body. And as a good tenant, I have not… destroyed the furniture."

"You've left the Taint as is, intentionally?" Solana's fingers began to tingle. He was making sense.

"Essentially. It is… unpleasant. It feels like the Void. I wouldn't choose to go near it as I am now, for fear it would corrupt me. And if it did, well I would cease being a good tenant. Does that make sense?"

"You'd be twisted from your purpose, become a demon?"

"The Blight is a corruption. It is highly likely that fighting it would corrupt me," he confirmed. "Is that helpful?"

Solana nodded, her pulse was so fast it felt like the fluttering of a butterfly wing in her neck. "Yes, thank you." Still, she needed to clarify one more time. "So… if a demon took over a Warden's body, they'd automatically take over the Taint too?"

"Take over? No. They'd fight it. A demon isn't so concerned with the… furniture. Is that stretching my analogy too far?"

"No. Thank you, that's perfect."

Solana made to pass him on the stairs. No doubt the others were wondering where they were now. But this time it was Justice who snagged her arm.

"I'm aware of the research you've been doing."

Solana stayed very still, letting Justice examine her face.

"Perhaps this is something that will be useful to... Fiona?" He asked, eyes narrowing.

"Yes, I'm certain she'll find it fascinating." Solana offered him her most pleasant smile, before detaching herself and heading back to Cullen's side.

* * *

Now that Anders had revealed part of his manner of escape it seemed obvious to Cullen. How had the Templars not realised that his means of departure lay in the storage caves? How else could he possibly get away?

When they reached the door, Anders returned to his body to reveal a hidden compartment in a nearby wall that contained a key. The man could hardly stand, but he was making a brave effort. Cullen expected he'd relinquish his body to Justice again, but he stayed with his arm around Hawke's shoulders as they opened the door and moved into the tunnels.

"Ideally, we'd do this during the day. But if we hurry we should be fine." Anders provided.

Solana lit her staff, throwing misshapen shadows over every box and barrel in the dusty old tunnels.

"Don't tell us to hurry, you're the one who's hobbling," Hawke commented.

"Very funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny. Tell us what to look out for and let Justice take over. You're weak, Love."

But Anders shook his head and that was the end of it.

The group moved in hushed silence, as if they too were mages escaping from Templar clutches and not heroes running from ghosts.

Solana stayed close and her concerned eyes kept darting to Cullen. He wished she hadn't seen what she had. Certainly not his finest hour. Truth be told, he was still unsettled. He kept grinding his teeth, a terrible habit he had picked up after the Blight and had only managed to kick after a year in Kirkwall. Somehow, it helped him keep focus, concentrate on the task at hand: leaving Kinloch Hold _forever._ There was no point in dwelling on how those demons had tricked him, how they had played back the contents of his nightmares. Demons tricked people. That's what they did. If anything, it was his fault for being gullible.

"Okay, lights out," Anders ordered.

Solana snuffed out her staff without question. In the darkness, her hand slipped into Cullen's. It was warm and soft and familiar. An anchor far greater than the grinding of his teeth.

They edged forward cautiously. Cullen wasn't sure what they were meant to be looking for. Then Anders said, "There!"

At first it wasn't apparent what he meant. Then Cullen saw it. A dim red light shining through one of the cave walls.

"Hawke, you can light your staff again," Anders's soft voice cut through the darkness.

Light blossomed, and Anders detached himself from Hawke, ambling towards the wall. He stuck his fingers in between the stones and pulled. A piece came away. Then another. Trevelyan joined him and soon there was a hole in the wall big enough for a man to fit through. The red glow was revealed to be a segment of sky, shining into the adjacent corridor from above.

"Inventive," Cullen said.

Anders had clearly carved a hole in the roof of the other corridor as a marker.

The mage grinned. "I always thought so."

But even though he was smiling, Cullen could see his exhaustion. Anders stepped away from the wall, as he took Hawke's arm a little too tightly.

They climbed through the hole and followed a maze of corridors, twisting slowly downward. Every junction was marked in a similar fashion to the first, using light to guide the way. When they grew too far in the ground for that to be viable, the light turned blue and Cullen was impressed, despite himself, to see that Anders had smuggled in glow stones. They were valuable and only really in wide use in Orlais.

They were quite literally being guided by light? _Could it be…_

"Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide," Cullen said softly. He ignored the concerned look from Solana and continued. "I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light. And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."

Anders smiled at him again, this smile even wearier than the last.

"Trials One?" Cullen asked, hoping for confirmation of his theory that this trick had been inspired by the Chant.

Anders shook his head. "The Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next. _Transfigurations_ One."

"I never pegged you for Andrastian," Cullen said.

"Because I'm a mage?"

"No, Love," Hawke cut in. "Because you blew up a Chantry."

In that moment, despite everything, Cullen felt unwelcome laughter pressing up from his chest. He had no desire to laugh. It was an awful horrible, thing that Anders had done. Even if that Chantry had been hopelessly corrupt. Even if Merridith's madness would have likely ended with the same amount of bloodshed were she left unchallenged.

He laughed regardless.

It was like a dam breaking. Months of tension melting into peels of giddy laughter that he could no more control than his feelings for Solana. His knees went weak with the force of it and Solana supported him and cupped his face and kissed him as if he was crying rather than laughing. Anders started laughing too, and then Hawke joined. Varric stood shaking his head and Trevelyan kept asking what the joke was. But Cullen couldn't tell him. Every time he attempted to, his own body betrayed him, interrupting him with further traitorous laughter.

Eventually he was able to heave in hair and the laughter died away. He shook his head, wiped his eyes, finding them once again moist. He was instantly ashamed of himself.

"Please don't tell anyone I laughed at that?" he asked Solana

Her hand slid into his again and her eyes sparkled with her own humour. "They would never believe me."

Eventually they started moving upwards. They walked the final length of the tunnel in the dark, squinting for any vague light. Once or twice, someone caught sight of something promising that turned out to be the anchor, peeking out of the Inquisitor's glove. They'd all but given up hope - accepting they'd need to spend the night in the tunnel - when a sliver of silver moonlight glittered overhead.

Trevelyan and Hawke removed the stones and one by one they all clambered out.

Cullen found himself on the shore of Lake Calenhad. The tower and all of its assorted horrors seemed very far away now. It was a crisp, clear evening and the stars were out, reflecting on the surface of the lake. In the distance, he could see the twinkling lights of the little hamlet by the docks.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE_

 _Okay so in fanon it is generally accepted that Justice was twisted into Vengeance over the course of DA2. Gaider is on record as saying that the Taint would either cure Anders, or corrupt Justice (apparently, I've got a screenshot of a fan *saying* he said this). If you rivalmance Hawke, Anders speaks about having blackouts, and losing control. However in all other cases it's a bit more ambiguous._

 _So, this is my headcanon. Justice doesn't always become Vengeance. When he is exposed to good things, like this particular Hawke, and doesn't try to interfere with the Taint, he's able to maintain some level of balance. ("Some level" because let's not get into the Chantry thing here... and not to mention spoilers for future chapters... suffice it to say that it's enough that he believed it was just at the time.)_

 _Another reason he wouldn't wish to interfere with the Taint is that the Grey Warden Taint gives Anders the ability to move around freely, so whether he says that to Solana or not, it's in his best interests to keep Anders blighted._


	62. Resurgence

The party seemed as anxious as Cullen to put distance between themselves and Kinloch, and for that he was grateful. It was unspoken that they would not spend another night at the inn.

Cassey's horse accompanied them, an ever-present reminder of her betrayal.

As the tower fell behind them, a gloomy silence settled over the group. Her treachery meant more than just a dangerous predicament, now escaped. It meant that they were returning to Skyhold empty-handed.

When Anders's strength finally gave out and he collapsed forward on his horse, Hawke called a halt

They set up camp on the edge of a forest near a small river somewhere in the Bannorn. They built a fire, but they ate stale rations from their packs and spoke little. Varric volunteered for first watch, Trevelyan for second and no one challenged them.

Solana disappeared, as she was wont to do, and Cullen's heart felt heavy as he retreated to their tent to ready himself for sleep.

He was in the process of removing his final plate of armour, when the tent flap twitched and Solana stuck her head in. "May I join you?"

He nodded.

She brought with her a pot of water. Steam rose off the top and he eyed it curiously before deciding she meant to wash her clothing. But as he turned away, her hand landed on his arm.

Her eyes were wide and sad as they looked into his. "I thought…" Her fingers twisted her wedding rings. "I thought I might wash you."

 _Wash me?_ "I am not wounded."

"I know. It was silly. I'm not really… not really sure what to do. After..."

She made to move away but he snatched her wrist. He wasn't even aware of the desire to do so, and then she was stiff in his grasp.

 _More force than necessary._ He swallowed, regret for both the movement and the words filling his chest with ice. At her expectant look, he didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what he wanted, _needed_ , only, he didn't want her to leave.

 _Say something._

"I'd like it. If you washed me, I mean. If you want to. Do... you want to?"

 _Clumsy, pathetic words._

She nodded and moved behind him. He was aware of her, even when she wasn't touching him, when it sounded like she was unwrapping the hard soap from her pack and lathering it in a cloth. He could _feel_ her presence. Was it her magic, or something else?

Still, he jerked at her contact when it came.

"Sorry."

"No, it's… it's all right."

She reached around him to undo his gambeson. Her touch was featherlight and warm through his thin underclothes. Neither of them spoke, although his heart raced, anticipating each subsequent touch. When she finally pulled the garment from his shoulders, she leaned close. So close that he felt her breath against his neck.

Her fingers paused at the hem of his shirt. "That woman, in the Harrowing Chamber."

His stomach clenched. "Annlise?"

"Annlise…" She tried the name on her tongue. "Did she really… did they really… was what I saw…"

"Real?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

He heard her intake of breath. "You cared about her."

"Yes."

He waited for the inevitable next question, but it didn't come. It was unfair to force her to find the words, she meant no harm with her questioning. This must have been difficult enough for her. "She was my lover, for a time."

 _Lover…_ Had they even been that? They'd never given what they'd had a name. Solana said nothing.

"We trained together and had a brief liaison. We were no longer... together when the Circle fell."

"But she protected you."

Her words sliced through his meager emotional defenses. His breath hitched. The warm glow of the fire that filtered through the tent turned purple before his eyes, the temperature dropped, the hazy shadows transformed into towering demons. _No! Take me!_

Cullen sucked in air, shaking his head to clear his mind of the foul memories. "Did you never wonder why I was the sole surviving Templar when you returned to the tower? It was because she took my torture for me. Not all of it, but enough. Enough that she died, agonisingly, while I lived."

"Oh, Cullen…"

"Whenever they came for me, she would distract them. Whenever they searched for a target, she would draw their ire. I should not have allowed it. I should have protected _her_."

"Cullen…" Solana's hand was on his cheek and she turned his face to look at her, turned his body to face hers. "It's not your fault. What happened to her is not your fault."

"I should not have allowed it," he repeated.

She drew his head down to her chest and wrapped warm, forgiving arms around him. "You couldn't have stopped her. It was her sacrifice to make."

Solana kissed his temple, his cheek, and then she was covering him in kisses and he clung to her once again. He was on the verge of tears, as he had been in the Fade, but holding her somehow kept them at bay. He wanted to believe her assurances, he let them wash over him like her affection.

His lips found hers and he gave himself over fully to the need that had plagued him for longer than he dared count. She tasted of salvation. His kisses were selfish and hungry, his hands moved to undress her almost of their own accord.

He drew away only when his lungs ached for air, and even then little more than an inch, only just enough space for her to tug the undershirt over his head. Then they were joined again and his hands fisted in her wild hair while hers ran down his back offering comfort, offering succour, sending waves of heat through his core.

Suddenly, she stiffened. Fear gripped him, he fought the urge to tighten his hold on her. It took three long heartbeats to realise she was tracing the scar on his back.

"What's this?" she asked, voice barely a whisper.

He let out a breath, relieved he hadn't done something to drive her from his arms. "It's from the Wilds. You need not concern yourself with it."

He tried to kiss her again, but she ducked her head. "You were injured?"

Injured, yes. The knight had practically run him through.

"Morrigan healed me." He pressed his lips to her cheek. "I was never in any danger."

A lie, but a small one. For those minutes lying in the shallow water before the temple, he'd struggled to cling to consciousness. But then Morrigan and the Inquisitor had come splashing towards him, calling his name, and the witch had fallen to her knees, muttering magic. His skin had mended, the air had returned to his lungs, but the scar was probably very large. He hadn't seen it himself.

"You never said anything." Solana's voice was still soft and low.

"There was no need. Much as it pains me to admit it, Morrigan is an accomplished mage. Whatever spell she used, I was in fighting shape almost instantly. Besides, we've had greater concerns."

"Greater concerns than your well-being?" The answer was _yes_. But her implication that it should have been _no_ made his chest feel full and light. He nuzzled against her neck and continued kissing her.

A few heated minutes later, she halted him again. He was in the process of slipping her robes from her shoulders, his impatient hands already reaching for the most intimate parts of her. Was he being too presumptuous? They'd hardly spoken recently and now this.

"Cullen…" Her eyes searched his. "I… my body's not the same as the last time we…"

He almost laughed. "You believe that matters to me?"

"It might."

"It doesn't."

Yes, her body had changed. There were soft curves now where there had been jutting bone and hard muscle. He explored it hungrily. Across her stomach was the greatest change, the marks that spoke of her pregnancy. He kissed them reverently.

But before he entered her, he raised his head and asked quietly, embarrassment heating his cheeks. "It won't hurt you?"

"I…" She was hesitant. "I don't think so."

It didn't seem to, and he was relieved.

If there was a difference in their lovemaking, it was not in the coming together of their physical forms but in the intensity. They tangled together, limbs entwining, breath syncing. Kissing and caressing and tasting and _loving_. Being _together_ , two as one, as it was meant to be.

Cullen drowned his senses in her. His wife. The rose-petal smell of her hair, the silken brush of her skin, the sound of her sighs. Real. Everything that had driven them apart melted from his mind as he pulled her as close as she could be, as he lost himself in her.

Afterwards, with her head nestled against his chest, Solana spoke again.

"Annlise… it's a good name."

He eyed her, lids heavy.

"Does it make you uncomfortable to hear it?"

"It did once. But enough time has passed, I don't mind it so much now."

"Perhaps we should consider it."

His sleepy mind took a moment to grasp what she was suggesting, and when it did the suggestion both moved and amused him. "You'd name our child after my ex-lover?"

"She saved your life."

When he did not say anything immediately, Solana added, "It would be a way to honour her."

"Annlise." He tried the name, picturing his daughter. "Perhaps… Alise?" He smiled because he knew it was right. It felt right, like this did, lying here with her.

"Alise… it sounds almost like..."

 _Almost like Alister._ "I know."

* * *

Cullen drifted awake to the sound of people moving around outside. _Morning already._ He'd slept fitfully despite the events of the previous day. A smile pulled at his lips. He had Solana to thank for that. He reached out to touch her, but found her bedroll empty.

The party was packing up the camp when he emerged from the tent a little later. Anders was on his feet again, laughing at something Hawke had said. Varric was telling Trevelyan a story. There was no sign of Solana.

"Anyone know where I can find my wife?" She was probably at the lake again, washing or fishing.

The look on Trevelyan's face at the question sent ice through Cullen. "No… we thought she was with you?"

"We've been letting you two have a bit of privacy," Hawke added.

Cullen didn't wait to hear more. Solana going off on her own was one thing, but if she'd left the tent this morning, someone should have seen. He marched to the horses, still hoping he was wrong, but knowing what he'd find.

Sure enough, hers was gone.

He stood staring at the spot where it had been tethered long enough that Varric came to check on him.

"I don't understand," Cullen said.

"I do." Anders approached, fidgeting. He was pallid and Cullen doubted this was due solely to blood loss. "Yesterday, Solana spoke to Justice. She was asking him about the taint."

"Aw, shit." Varric kicked the ground, sending forth a cloud of dust. " _Shit!_ "

Cullen's chest tightened and his heart started galloping, even though he didn't fully understand what they were saying. "The taint?"

It was Varric who answered. "Yea, when we were in the Fade… Well, Curly, there's no easy way to say this. Cassey was cured when she died. After she… after she'd been possessed."

Cullen's mouth went dry. He turned again to Anders. "Possessed? Possession cures the blight?"

"It _can_." He seemed about to say more but Cullen didn't want to hear it, didn't need to. If it cured both the taint and Tranquility...

"Oh, Maker. Oh… Maker, no. She can't mean to - " Surely she wouldn't, she _couldn't_. "Our _child_ , she wouldn't put her at risk like that?"

"She has to get to her first," Varric said. "Come on, maybe we can head her off at your sister's place. Talk some sense into her."

* * *

Twilight was already kissing the fields outside South Reach when they rode up. Mia came out of the house with arms open in greeting. Even Hawke knew that wasn't a good sign. The family had been waiting for them. That meant Solana had already been here.

"Where is she?" Cullen asked as he dismounted, tone harsh enough that Mia's smile disappeared.

"Solana? She left a few hours ago… what's going on?"

Cullen ducked his head and swore violently. Hawke had never seen him like this. The unshakable commander was shaken. His clothing was disheveled, his hair was a sweaty mess.

His sister reached to touch him. "Cullen, speak to me."

But before he could utter anything more, the rest of the family poured out of the house. They shouted warm greetings and congratulations. Hawke didn't hear all of it, but he heard the word _cure_.

"Did she tell you where she was going?" Cullen asked Mia. "What did she say?"

Mia answered slowly, as if rethinking what had seemed a very ordinary conversation at the time. "She said she was going to Skyhold, that you found the cure… I don't understand, what's happening?"

"She'll have to stop the feed the baby," Anders suggested. "If we ride through the night we might still catch her. She'll likely travel through Redcliffe for supplies."

"No," Mia said. "We gave her supplies. She said she needed to return to Skyhold urgently. That's why she'd ridden ahead. But I'm starting to suspect that wasn't the case?"

"I suppose she took a fresh horse too?"

"Yes… Cullen, please, tell me what's happening."

"There isn't time." He mounted again, and Mia reached up to catch his arm.

"Tell me, _did_ you at least find a cure?"

"A dangerous one. One she should not use under any circumstances."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE

3 more chapters left in part 2!


	63. Death Syphon

Solana slipped through the herb garden mostly unseen. She was getting better at the spell.

When Celeste had first taught it to her, she'd also been trying to hide from Cullen. But the blueberries seemed to belong in another lifetime. Now her motives were much darker.

He would likely never forgive her.

She drew a deep, steadying breath. She still had a little time, but not much. She'd ridden to Redcliffe without rest and the Rutherfords' stallion had done well with the trip. From there, she'd organised passage with some merchants, in their cart up to Skyhold. She'd told them the baby was sick so that they'd hurry.

She was, in a sense.

At most her deception had bought her half a day. Provided Cullen had slept through the night, provided Trevelyan had remained as oblivious as he'd seemed when she'd slipped past him under this same spell.

"I need your help," Solana said.

Morrigan jerked on the bench where she'd been reading. But her fright at Solana's sudden appearance from the shadows didn't have a lasting impact. She eyed Solana cooly and set down her book.

" _Now_ you require my aid?"

Her eyes lingered on the sling where Alise was nestled. Morrigan was like a lethargic cat. Her gaze took in Solana's state of dishevel, her wild hair, her red cheeks. She took in the way she held the baby to her. She took in the spell Solana had used to approach. Solana saw her adding together these factors, and the sum of them piqued her interest. She stood, and if she were a cat her tail would have been twitching.

"And what is it, precisely, that you require of me?"

"I need you to help me save her."

* * *

Samson flicked another stone across the floor, narrowly missing the spot he'd decided to aim for. He cursed under his breath, but he couldn't get up much real passion. He'd grown bored of this game several hours ago, but it wasn't like he had a bunch of options, was it?

He heard the door from the main gaol open and his heart skipped. Whether with nervousness or excitement, he didn't know. "About time. I was wondering when you -"

He stopped talking when he saw who'd entered. It was the Hero, which meant Cullen. And possibly the Inquisitor too. His guts twisted. He'd known the day was coming, but did it have to come so soon after he'd finally started to feel himself again?

The lyrium that the mage had been dosing him with had done wonders. It didn't have the kick of the red stuff, but he'd stopped aching, stopped craving. His mind had snapped into focus again.

But it wasn't Cullen who followed the Hero in. It was an apostate he recognised from the Temple of Mythal and she was holding a baby. She handed the little thing to a startled-looking guard Edmund and asked that he leave. He hesitated only a moment, only long enough for the Hero to turn her attention on him, before he bowed his head and left.

Then she turned to Samson. He was still trying to think of something clever to say when she spoke.

"Should I knock him out or…"

The other one drew a bottle of lyrium from her pocket. "No need."

As he watched, she downed the entire thing. It was then he knew to be frightened. "What are you going to do to me?"

They didn't answer.

* * *

Cullen moved through the crowds in the lower courtyard, desperately hoping that they were only a few minutes behind his wife. They'd made good time.

"Have you - sorry ma'am have you seen my wi -" People brushed away from him or shook their heads. Those who recognised him at least offered an apology and called him by his title.

Trevelyan had even less luck. "Excuse me. The Hero, did she pass this way?"

People stared at him with startled expressions and replied with their own questions. Before long, he was surrounded, being pressed for answers or decisions that had nothing at all to do with Solana.

"Can't you sense her?" Cullen asked Anders helplessly. "Cassey was able to sense her."

Anders frowned and closed his eyes, appearing to concentrate. But when his lids fluttered open, he shook his head. "She might have gone to Fiona. She could be masking her somehow."

Hawke, at his shoulder, raised his eyebrows. "You think Fiona would assist her with something like this?"

Cullen knew instantly what Anders meant. He nodded and started for the corridor, for _that_ room. The others followed.

There was no answer when he first knocked, and Cullen feared that they already had some kind of ritual underway. He hammered on the door with his fists and yelled Solana's name until, finally, it opened a crack.

Fiona's pale green eye peered out at them. "Solana is not here, Commander."

"Let us in."

"I assure you, she's not…"

"Let us in or Maker help me I will bash this door in myself."

She stepped aside and Cullen pushed past her. But Solana wasn't there, just Celeste sitting at the desk and holding a vial of blood in her hand.

"What is this place?" Cullen heard Hawke ask. "Is… is that blood?"

Cullen ignored him. "Solana's taken the baby. She's going to… put a demon in her. I think."

Celeste shot to her feet. "What! Why?"

Cullen swallowed. He didn't have time for this. Behind him, Hawke was looking at the books and the vials and demanding answers from Anders. He tried to block them out.

"Fiona, before you were cured of the taint, were you at any time possessed?"

Fiona's face drained of colour and her hand flew to her mouth. "How could you _know_ that?"

 _So she was right._ "Solana discovered that possession cures both Tranquility and the taint. Then she ran away with our baby. My family said she was coming here. Anders can't sense her. Do you have _any_ idea where she might be?"

"No." Fiona shook her head wildly. "No, and I can't imagine she would do such a thing. Are you quite certain?"

"Samson," Celeste said.

Every eye in the room drew to her.

"She'd go to Samson. She'd want to test it first."

"Test it?" Hawke's voice cracked with incredulity.

"Red lyrium carries the Blight," Celeste said. "We've been testing possible cures."

Her words took a beat to sink in and, when they did, they made Cullen sick to his stomach.

But it was Hawke who spoke. "You've been testing possible cures on a _live_ person? On a _human being_?" He rounded on Anders. " _You_ knew about this?"

Anders said nothing and Hawke backed away from him.

"There's no time," Cullen snapped.

* * *

Celeste's skin was crawling as they hurried down to the gaol. Everything about this was _wrong._ Something must have happened to Solana in that tower. Perhaps she had been possessed or...

Before she could finish the thought, she heard his choking.

She rushed past Cullen, flinging the door to the broken part of the gaol open.

No Solana, no Edmond. But Samson was curled in a ball, convulsing violently. She fell against the bars of his cell, mind racing through possible magics that could open it.

"Here, let me get that." Varric pushed in front of her, lockpick in hand.

Barely a moment later, the cell was open and she was through. She fell to her knees beside him, pulling his head into her lap.

"What's wrong with him?" Cullen wanted to know.

Anders joined Celeste in the cell. "I'm not sure."

Samson was heaving in air, quaking as if he'd been dumped in cold water. His eyes shot open and he stared up at her. She wasn't sure he even saw her until he spoke.

"Where is she?"

"That's what we were hoping you could tell us," Cullen said.

Samson's eyes rolled to where Cullen stood at the entrance to his cell. "Don't know. Witch was with her."

"Tell us what happened," Celeste said, as gently as she could.

"They… they had lyrium. And they." He swallowed. "They... oh Maker."

He lurched to the side and threw up. Fear raced through Celeste, freezing her blood.

"Did they force a demon into you?" Cullen demanded.

"Yes," Samson croaked.

Fiona approached slowly, more drifting than walking, holding an empty vial. She lowered herself down beside Celeste and, without saying a word, took Samson's hand.

He cried out as she cut it, but lacked the strength to pull it free. Scarlet blood dripped down the glass. Celeste held her breath as Fiona waved her hand over it and muttered an incantation. They all watched. Nothing happened. The blood did not glow.

"He's cured," Fiona said softly.

"Noo…" Samson thrashed in Celeste's lap. "No no no."

"You should be glad to be cured," Fiona told him.

He was still shaking his head. "They're gonna try cure the baby? No. You can't let them. It's not just… the demon. It's not just that." His hand shot out to grab Celeste's arm. He squeezed it, leaving a bloody mark where Fiona had cut him. "They killed me."

* * *

Cullen was red-faced and panting by the time he reached the top of the tower.

Leliana looked up and smiled. "Commander, I didn't realise you were back yet. How was the -"

She stopped when she saw his expression. "What's wrong?"

"It's Solana. She's gone." He bent double, fighting for breath. "Taken baby. Ritual. Please. Must find her."

The spymaster's eyes widened. "A ritual?"

"Possession. Demons. Please, Leliana. I beg of you. If anyone can find her…"

"When did she leave?"

"We missed her by not more than a few minutes, I'm sure of it."

Leliana turned to a nearby scout. "Get word to our people."

He nodded and dashed off. She strode to one of the cages and flung it open, reaching in for a bird. She paused.

And then she was running past Cullen, the bird flapping about their heads and up into the rafters. He followed, shouting after her, slowed by the stitch in his side. It was only once they'd reached the base of the tower that he realised where she was going. She tore through the room that had belonged to Solas and out onto the battlements.

She was heading for his quarters.

He jogged after her, and by the time he caught up she was already tearing the room apart.

"What -"

Her head was down as she dug through the dresser, scarves and gloves flying.

"Leliana, I don't under -"

And then she withdrew her hand. From it dangled a glass bottle that could only be one thing: a phylactery.

He could hardly breathe as it was. Staring at the vial twisting and glinting in the sunlight, it was all he could do not to choke. Her phylactery. Solana must have taken it from the store room. Taken it behind his back and hidden it from him.

"Silly girl. I told her to wear it," Leliana said. But she smiled victoriously and handed it to Cullen.

He accepted it in numb fingers. It pulsed gently.

He knew what to do.


	64. Sacrifice

_AUTHOR'S NOTE_

 _Eeep, this is the second last chapter of Part 2! I'll post the final one on Monday. I'm about a third of the way into writing Part 3 and it's all planned out, so hopefully you won't have to wait too long :)_

 _Thanks so much for reading and to everyone who's left comments so far! You make all the effort worth it_

* * *

At first Cullen was confused about where the phylactery was leading them. He'd expected it to take them out of the gates. He'd been readying himself to commandeer a horse. But it had lead them instead towards the herb garden.

They walked in tense silence. Leliana had her bow slung over her shoulder, Anders was watching his feet. Hawke had left them somewhere between the research room and the gaol. Now Varric had left too, presumably to find Hawke. It was just the three of them. It would have to be enough.

As they neared the small room at the edge of the garden, the phylactery's pulsing suddenly made sense.

She'd gone through the _mirror_. That blighted thing. Cullen had always known it would be a security threat, but how could he have guessed that _this_ was how?

"It's an eluvian," Anders said as they moved inside. "Does it work?"

"Yes, it works," Leliana snapped. "How else would they have gone through it?"

"Sorry, of course."

Cullen could see his own reflection in the glass. He looked haggard. Every hour he hadn't slept was written on his face, along with his disappointment, his rage. Rough stubble lined his jaw. He was a fearsome sight. He'd read that some of the early human tribes had scarred and maimed themselves to frighten their enemies. Looking at himself now, he could believe that.

"How do we make it…?" Cullen waved his arm in front of it.

"Open?" Anders frowned. "I have no idea."

"But you know what it is?"

"Yes, I had a friend who _tried_ to make one work. She never succeeded."

Cullen swore and turned from his reflection, pulling at his hair. He swore again because he didn't know what else to do. When he had played chess with Solana, she had almost always won. It seemed she had won again. She'd gone somewhere he couldn't follow. She was going to do awful things to the baby, _his child_ , and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

"I want to help."

Cullen jumped in fright. Cole was suddenly beside him. The boy tilted his head, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Then he pointed, seemingly at himself.

"He can help."

"Maker's breath, we don't have time for this," Cullen said through gritted teeth.

"That's your reflection, Cole," Leliana explained, kindly. "Are you talking about yourself?"

"No." Cole shook his head so vigorously that his hat almost fell off. "The other one. I don't have the keys, but the other one... it is _more_ than me."

Cullen sighed. "I don't know what he's talking about."

Cole was still staring at the mirror. "He makes you do what's right. Right for the world, not for you. You suffer in silence. Your union was a choice."

"Maker, he's talking about Justice," Anders said. He stepped back from the mirror. "You think Justice knows how to open this thing?"

"No, but he can find out, if you let him. You can't be here though."

"What does he _mean_?" Cullen was growing increasingly frustrated with Cole's enigmas.

In the mirror, Ander's reflection frowned. His eyebrows drew together. "I think he means I must give over to Justice entirely."

"Like you did in the tower?"

"Ah, not exactly."

"Not _exactly_?"

Anders turned. "In the tower, he was… helping me. I gave him control because I was too weak, but I was still very much present, if not in command of the physical..." Anders pinched the bridge of his nose. "That friend I mentioned, Merrill. She was communicating with a demon about fixing her mirror. It went about as well as you'd expect. Assuming the demon really did know what it was talking about, it's possible that Justice would have the same knowledge or power or…" He shook his head. "It's too risky."

"Too risky!" Cullen closed the space between them and slammed his hand against the mirror. "My wife's through there. She's going to force a demon into my daughter and kill her."

"I doubt she'll kill her," Leliana offered.

Cullen spun onher. "She killed Samson."

"And she brought him back to life."

"What if it goes wrong? What if she can't bring her back to l-life?" His voice cracked. The very idea made him feel dizzy. His daughter. That tiny body that could fit between his palm and his elbow. "I can't let her do this."

Leliana's forehead creased in concern. But Cullen didn't want her pity. He turned back to Anders. "I need you to do this."

"Commander, you were there the last time I gave him full control."

"He stands _for_ justice. Stopping Solana _is_ justice." His voice cracked again. He caught sight of himself in the mirror once more. Pleading with Anders to lose control, pleading with Anders to stop Solana. _Oh, Maker._ The sight was almost enough to make his knees buckle. Only the thought of his daughter kept him steady. "Please."

Anders took a deep breath and nodded.

He closed his eyes.

Blue power sparked across his skin, a network of light that made it look as if his skin had been an outer shell and now it had cracked apart. When he opened his eyes, they blazed again. Bright blue, and crystalline, and completely inhuman.

Cullen took a step back from him.

"Commander," Justice greeted Cullen with a stiff nod. His voice reverberated through the room. "I feel I owe you an apology for the present predicament. When Solana asked me about the taint, I hardly thought she would go to these length -"

"Apologise later. We need to stop her."

"Very well."

Justice placed one glowing blue hand against the mirror. Power seemed to surge through him. Cullen wondered how he had possibly passed as a Warden like this. Then again, he had been possessing the corpse of a soldier, not a living mage. Anders had been a powerful mage in his own right before Justice. Justice having access to those powers… it made Cullen shudder. For an instant, he doubted himself. What he was unleashing could cause so much damage to so many…

But he only wavered for that instant. He would burn the world for Alise.

Justice threw his head back and cried out. The glow from Anders's eyes intensified, burning bright enough to light the room.

And then the surface of the mirror seemed to melt around his hand.

Leliana let out a breath. "It's open."

* * *

"You are certain?"

For the first time that Solana could recall, she saw doubt flicker across Morrigan's features.

The room they stood in reminded Solana of the pavilion in the herb garden, only it was much larger and there were no pretty vines curling their tendrils around the columns. In fact, there was no colour at all. This world that Morrigan had brought her to was almost entirely monotone, but for the blue-green mist that had swirled around their feet when they'd first entered. Beyond the arches that marked the borders of the room, there was only inky darkness.

"I've come too far to back out now," Solana said.

Even as she spoke the words, she wondered if they were true. Her heart thumped against her chest like the pounding of a fist on a door. She was trembling and thirsty and weak. But for once, she didn't need to be strong. She only had to be brave.

She only had to be the Hero. One last time.

There was a plinth in the centre of the room and it took Solana three unsteady steps to lay Alise upon it. The baby woke as she did, and reached up with a grasping hand. Though her eyes shone, they were blank. Solana bent to press a kiss on her forehead.

Everything else was set up. The candles, the symbols. The lyrium she'd smuggled from the Skyhold stores sat heavy in her pocket. She passed a vial to Morrigan.

"Before we begin, answer me this."

Solana raised her eyebrows.

"You are the mighty Hero of Ferelden. There are many allies you could turn to in your hour of need. You might have even ordered your Grey Wardens to assist you. We have seen they have few qualms when it comes to demons. Yet it is I you turn to. We have not so much as spoken since I came to Skyhold. Not even when you first learned of your child's plight."

"You're not saying you would have had a solution?"

Morrigan smirked. "No. And if I had, you likely would not have trusted it."

Was she referring to Alistair?

"No," Solana agreed.

"But you trust me now?" Morrigan queried.

Solana squared her shoulders. "I trust you to always do what's _necessary_."

Morrigan frowned at that.

"You don't let emotions cloud your judgement. At first it… it troubled me. But that was another life. That was when I was still wide-eyed and naive. I believed that the world was made of absolutes. I see now that I was wrong. I should have asked Alistair to perform that ritual. I should have given him the choice. If I had perhaps…" She glanced at Alise, lying on her back and and softly gurgling. "Perhaps it wouldn't have come to this."

"It is likely your daughter would not have been born had you chosen differently that night," Morrigan said softly.

"Was Alistair's blood special? Was it a cure?"

Morrigan blinked. "A cure? For the Blight? No. But it was... special, I suppose. It is useless now, reflecting on what could have been. That child was not born. This one was. We should proceed."

* * *

Cullen stumbled from the eluvian, feeling as though the air had been knocked from his lungs. Nausea raced from the top of his head down to his empty his stomach.

They were in a land that was both real and not. A strange non-world of grey pathways and and stillness. It felt _wrong_. He was not welcome here.

But the phylactery throbbed gently against his palm and he forced himself to his feet and followed its lead.

When he heard the chanting, he started to jog, heavy armour slamming against his shoulders.

 _There._ A glimmer of candlelight. It came from one of the strange floating islands and he knew, _he knew_ that must be where they were. He threw himself forward towards it as the phylactery started to thrum.

He skidded into the room. Candles flickered. Solana turned to look at him. Her hair was curling flame, her eyes were bright flecks of serpentstone. She slammed her staff down and a barrier formed between them.

"No!" He threw himself against it.

 _Alise on a plinth, wriggling in obvious discomfort. Morrigan, with eyes rolled upward and arms out, chanting._

"Solana, stop!" He pounded his fists against the barrier as Leliana and Anders arrived behind him. "I can't let you do this!"

She backed away from him, chest rapidly rising and falling.

He reached for magic-cancelling powers that were no longer there. _No lyrium, no Templar abilities._ But he drew his sword because he didn't know what else to do.

Solana's eyes darted to the weapon. She fumbled for something in her pocket.

Alise started to cry, a heart-splitting anguished sound unlike anything he'd heard from her before. Solana produced from her robes a glass vial, glowing blue.

"Solana, if you do this, I will _cut you down_. Maker, help me."

She unstoppered the bottle. For a brief instant, her eyes met his. Her hand was trembling as she rose the vial to her lips. "I know."

* * *

The Fade opened around her, swallowing her with the finality that only death or an overdose of lyrium could provide. The green sky roared and the ground beneath her feet crackled. Alise's cries consumed her.

She spun towards them. There, sitting upon the plinth, a despair demon. It cradled Alise in its arms, and it might have been mistaken for a shrunken old woman in a cloak, staring lovingly into the face of the child, were it not for the teeth that Solana could see poking from beneath the hood. The sight sent acid racing through Solana's veins. Alise was ghostly, glimmering in the dim light as Connor had all those years ago. Her tiny body was twisting against the demon's grip and her face was contorted. She seemed insubstantial, more vulnerable than ever.

"Look, little one. Mother dearest joins us," the demon said. Its whole head moved when it spoke, its face one mighty jaw. The voice echoed around them, reverberating over the sound of Alise's cries.

Solana nodded, not trusting her own voice.

"This is not the host I would have chosen, but it will do nicely… eventually. I am patient." The demon swiveled its head to Solana, beady little mouse eyes glimmering in the recesses of the cloak. "I suspect you are here to challenge me. I would not advise it. She has such a delicate little mind. It would be a pity for harm to come to it. How about we make a deal? You let me stay, and no one will be the wiser. I am good at hiding. I can hide easily for ten, even twenty years. Allow me to stay and I will not break her precious little mind."

"I have a counter-offer," Solana said. Her voice was steadier than she felt. So far everything was going according to plan, but the next few words would be crucial. She squared her shoulders. "Take my body instead."

The demon simply stared at her.

"I am a mage. A very powerful mage. I am widely respected, lauded as a hero, in fact. Take my body instead and there will be nowhere you can't go, nothing you can't do."

The demon said nothing and Solana's heartbeat drummed in hear ears.

"You can't tell me that isn't a tempting offer."

The demon rose. It did not stand, but hovered before her. "It is. Very tempting. Too tempting, _Solana._ "

She backed away a step, and cursed herself for showing weakness. "You know me?"

It couldn't smile, but there was satisfaction in its voice. "I know you so very well. Better than your husband, better than your closest friends."

Solana's breath hitched. This wasn't part of the plan. She could feel cold sweat against her spine.

"Do you believe it was an accident that _I_ happened to be the nearest demon when you performed your little ritual? I have fed off you for _years_. I was there _that night_." The demon seemed to grow before her. "When you set up camp in the Frostbacks, when you trudged through snow so deep your legs could hardly move. Did you think you were alone?" It chuckled. "And ahhh, when you finally made your way down the mountain back to your little society, back to your _Cullen_. He thought you'd be his, but you were always mine."

"So take me then." _Stay focused._ "Take my body and you'll no longer need to feed on my sorrow."

"I'm not fool enough to think you'd give me your body without there being a price."

"If you've been with me so long, you know I'd give my life for less."

Again it laughed, a horrible bone-crunching noise. "My dear, who do you think has been egging you on?"

It drifted around her, forcing her to turn. Alise still thrashed and squealed in its arms.

"Tell me honestly what the price is. I will know if you lie. Tell me what will happen if I take that wretched body from you."

"Alright. It is possible that you will die."

"Is that all?"

"If I become an abomination, Cullen will kill me. It's what he's trained for. And if he fails, the others will try too. Plus, my body is not currently in the material world. There is an eluvian that leads back there, but I do not know the key."

The demon sank down to Solana's eye level. "Full disclosure. I like that."

Solana did not speak. She waited. The demon circled back to the plinth. "Your husband will be _devastated_ if he is compelled to kill you."

"Yes."

Slowly, the demon set Alise back on the plinth. "Not that he will succeed."

* * *

Solana's eyes rolled back in her head and she fell to her knees. The barrier flickered, but before Cullen could break through, Morrigan replaced it. Her eyes were clear now, her chanting done. She held out one palm, keeping the barrier in place.

Cullen shouted his wife's name and the baby continued to twist and scream and cry.

"Let me." Justice strode past Cullen, and set his hand upon the barrier. Morrigan tensed. Her features stiffened. Sweat prickled on her brow. She was no doubt powerful, Cullen had seen that in the Arbor Wilds. But she was no match for the combined strength of Justice and Anders. The barrier flickered, and dropped away, sending Morrigan flying backwards. She crashed against one of the pillars at the edge of the room and slumped, motionless.

Cullen dashed forward, sword drawn, but didn't aim for Solana or even Morrigan. Alise needed him. If he could get her away…

But before he reached her, Solana screamed.

It wasn't the kind of sound any human should make. It took him instantly back to Kinloch. His stomach turned to liquid. He spun to face her, just in time to see her morph.

Her head was thrown back in anguish and where her beautiful face had been, there were two rows of long, white teeth.

 _No…_

Her body trembled and he knew what he had to do. In this moment, she was at her weakest. The demon was still establishing control. This was what he'd trained for. This was the nightmare he had faced all those years before when he'd been called to oversee her, what he had been ready to do.

This was the failed Harrowing.

He raised his sword, hand shaking so violently that he very nearly dropped it.

 _I'll cut you down,_ he'd said it. He'd warned her. She'd taken their child. _Do it…_

"Maker grant me strength…"

 _Do it…_

Solana. His wife. Warm arms around him. The smell of roses. The shy smile as they walked together through Haven. That night in her tent when her feelings had been revealed in touches and sighs and kisses. Solana… holding his head in her lap as his mind tumbled through a lyrium overdose. Blackberries in his office. Sitting together late into the desert night. Solana in the Circle dining hall. _I don't like raisins._

The sword slipped from his fingers. His knees gave in.

And Solana laughed. "Devastated… yeeesss."

She stood, seeming somehow taller. She clenched and unclenched her fists. "And such… power… such… Ahh!"

An arrow. It slammed into her chest and tore through her heart.

Leliana. Leliana had done what he'd been unable to do. She was crouched, holding her bow at the ready. Trails of tears ran down her cheeks.

And the demon crumpled forward. From where Cullen knelt, he saw Solana's face return, saw the light go out of her eyes.

And then he was crawling towards her, pulling her into his arms and he was screaming his throat raw. _No! How could it end like this? How could she end like this?_ And Morrigan had come to, she was shouting, and feet were pounding and Anders was on his knees beside Cullen. Not Justice, but Anders. The healer. And Morrigan was there too.

Out of my way!" Electricity crackled from her fingers and she pulled Solana from Cullen's arms, slamming an electric hand down on her chest. Anders cast magic. Bright blue, as blue as Justice. Morrigan slammed her hand down again. Again, electricity surged through Solana. Her body jerked. Another wave of blue magic. More electricity.

And then she convulsed. A gasp. _Breathing._

* * *

She heaved in air, choking on it but unable to stop. Her skin tingled. She heard her name.

 _Cullen…_

It was his voice that gave her the strength to force her eyes open. Her memories were foggy. What happened? Why did her head _ache_?

Three faces hung over hers. Anders, Morrigan and… him. It was when she saw his eyes that memories surged back. Pain the likes of which she had never seen…

But before she could say anything, before she could even find her voice, he pulled away.

It was a couple of minutes before she had gained back enough breath to sit. She struggled up. "Alise?" She could still hear her crying

"Baby's fine." Leliana was standing near the plinth, holding Alise to her chest and trying to calm her.

"And you are too." Anders smiled, but Solana could tell it was forced. "I don't sense the taint in either of you, congratulations."

There was no sign of Cullen.


	65. Second Chance

_One month later…_

 _27 Guardian 9:42 Dragon_

A butterfly flittered down from the tree and hovered just out of reach of Alise's grasping fingers. She laughed and gurgled, kicking her feet excitedly.

Solana reached behind her back and cast a small spell. Bubbles burst from her fingertip and drifted into the air about them, causing more excited squeals from the little person on her lap. She closed her eyes and drank in the sound of it.

It was still rare to hear Alise happy. Emotions were so new to her, and most of them seemed to frighten or hurt, but she loved the Grove. She loved being under the blue sky and watching the trees in the wind, the insects buzzing. Her eyes would go round in awe and sometimes her mouth would too.

"Interesting tactic."

Solana's heart jumped. _That_ voice. She was instantly on her feet and Alise gave a startled coo. But when she turned, she turned slowly, holding her breath, hardly daring to hope.

"Cullen," she breathed.

He hovered awkwardly by the tree that marked the entrance to the Grove and she felt giddy.

"Solana." His eyebrows drew close and his gaze dropped to his feet.

"I… I wasn't sure you'd return," she managed to get the words out.

"Neither was I… but… I don't want to be the sort of man who abandons his child."

 _His child._ Ice pooled in her stomach. As desperate as she'd been to see him, as much as she'd ached for him over the last month, she had to remember there was no way he could possibly feel the same after she'd done what she had.

 _Solana, if you do this, I will cut you down. Maker, help me._

He moved forward as if with great effort. "How… how is she?"

"Better. Good." Alise stared at Cullen in alarm. "She startles easily. She's still growing accustomed to…" Solana cleared her throat. "Feelings. They take her by surprise. But she's young enough, I'm certain she'll adjust."

Silence followed. Cullen looked everywhere but at them.

"How's Mia?" Solana asked.

"Oh, she's…" He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous gesture that Solana hadn't seen him use in months. "She's well enough. Rosalie has a suitor. I think she finally gave up on Hawke."

"She gave up too soon."

Cullen's eyebrows shot up, signalling that he didn't know.

"Anders left. He, um, he left a note. It said it was unfair of him to ask Hawke to forgive him again. I think. I… I'm not really sure what it said. The Skyhold grapevine isn't particularly reliable."

"I take it Hawke's not speaking to you directly then?"

Solana's insides twisted again. "No. But that's not unexpected."

Cullen's adam's apple bobbed as he looked around for inspiration for something else to say. "I should have written. I… sorry."

"Max told me you were with your family."

"Good… I started a few letters. Never really knew what to say. It seems I'm as much at a loss now as I was then."

Solana waited again.

"I was very angry."

"I know."

"I even considered... When I told Mia what you'd done, she suggested I bring Alise to South Reach. Raise her there."

 _Told Mia…_ Solana pictured Mia in that nursery, how much faith she'd had. _Another person betrayed._ After Cullen, losing Hawke had hurt the most so far. He'd been the first family she'd ever had. He'd accepted her immediately and without question. Then Mia had done the same and now that too was gone. Still, Solana lifted her chin because self-pity was for those who deserved it. She'd made her choice, and she had to accept the consequences.

"Is that what you want?" she asked Cullen.

His eyes darted from her again. "I can't say it wasn't tempting. But my life is here."

 _Here, with the Inquisition._

Solana considered offering to leave instead, but she knew she couldn't. Being parted from Alise was inconceivable.

"For what it's worth… I'm sorry," she said.

At that, his eyes did meet hers. His look was hard. "Are you?"

"No." It was the only honest answer. Her baby could laugh at butterflies, could live to see old age. No. She wasn't sorry. "But I'm sorry that I hurt you."

He shook his head and turned from her. She didn't dare ask where he was going.

* * *

Samson rocked back and forth, back and forth. With his arms around his knees and his head down, it was the only thing that soothed him.

He heard the door, but didn't look up.

It was either the Inquisitor's men here to question him, that dwarf with her enchantments, or…

"Ser Samson?"

Or her. Her with his lyrium. They'd been cutting back, slowly weaning him off. She only came every second day now and he'd lost track of time. Had it really been two days?

He heard her kneel beside his cage. She always did, bringing herself to eye level. A strange habit.

"You can leave it there," he said. _Back and forth, back and forth._

"I haven't brought you lyrium."

He looked up at that. She had a wicker basket with her and she reached into it. Through the bars of his cell, she offered him a soft, white, bread roll.

"Take it away."

Her pretty face contorted. Disappointment. "You don't like bread?"

He did, very much. He could still recall the smell of the bakery at dawn. As a child he had longed to frequent it like the noble children did. He'd watch them enter with broad smiles and exit with currant buns, and cakes, and strange Orlesian delicacies. It had taken until he was a Templar for him to finally sample such wares.

"Take it away," he repeated.

"It's hot from the oven. We made fresh this morning."

"So why are you offering it to me, hey?"

"I thought it might make a nice change from the slop that they usual-"

He slammed a hand against the bars. She jumped back. "Nice? What in Maker's name are you doing bringing me _nice_? Don't you know who I am? What I've d- done?"

"Of course I do."

"Yeah well, then I don't know what you're playing at. But I don't have the energy for games. I just… leave me. Please."

"Very well."

The instant she rose to her feet, he regretted his words. He curled in on himself, even tighter than before, and listened as she walked away.

* * *

The sun was setting later as the weather grew warmer, which suited Solana fine. More time for lessons.

Mages continued to flock to Skyhold. Some were frightened. There was talk of Circles in Val Royeaux again and they hoped the Inquisition would protect them. Some were new to their powers, and without the Circles they had nowhere to go to learn how to keep demons at bay. So, Solana had resumed training them. Corypheus may be dead, but mages would always need to know how to handle their abilities.

Besides, she was no longer a Grey Warden. She belonged with the mages. Their fate was very likely hers.

She'd thrown herself into her work, developing three separate drill sessions that ran each morning, and a host of individual lessons with new mages every afternoon. Alise would mostly lie in her basket, watching the pretty lights and calling out if she grew hungry or uncomfortable or if a particularly large burst of magic frightened her. Sometimes, when she was particularly finicky, Solana would carry her and give instruction verbally.

It wasn't quite happiness, but it was satisfying. While she was working, she was distracted. It was only when she returned to her quarters in the evenings and saw the empty bed waiting for her that sorrow won out.

This night, she didn't know what to expect. Cullen was back, but nothing he had said indicated he had any interest in an ongoing relationship with her. He was back for Alise, and for the Inquisition.

But as she pushed the door open, there he was. He was sitting on their bed, busy with his boot. The elation almost overwhelmed her. She stood frozen, unsure what to do or say. He looked up when he heard her.

"I, uh, sorry. I was just leaving."

Her heart seemed to shrink. "At this hour?" She searched for something else to say, something that didn't sound as demanding. "I.. I know you have a lot of work to catch up on, but certainly it can wait a few hours more?"

He frowned and his brow creased. Then understanding seemed to dawn. "Oh, I'm not going to work now. I… I thought it would be best if I slept in my office".

 _Oh._ Cold washed over her, leaving her frozen in front of the door. "Oh. Of course."

"I came here to wash. You don't mind, do you?"

Solana shook her head.

* * *

Cullen jerked awake. He found himself staring at starry sky rather than at white rafters. _Skyhold._

He pushed himself to sitting, all traces of the nightmare already melting away.

Something shifted in the shadows. Terror pierced his chest, he reached for his sword and found it gone.

It glinted in the moonlight across the room. "Looking for this?"

"Leliana."

She emerged from the darkness and handed him the weapon. She was wearing her hood up, and most of her face was in shadow.

"Knocking too mundane for you?"

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "Come with me."

"Now?"

She turned and slunk away without answering. With a sigh, he climbed out of bed, feeling he had no choice but to follow.

He was still pulling his shirt straight as they moved along the battlements. By the bite in the air, it was already past midnight. Leliana walked a few feet in front of him, her silver chainmail twinkling.

"You hear that?" she asked.

Skyhold was quiet. Somewhere in the night, an owl hooted. Then he _did_ hear it. Was that… weeping?

The room that he'd shared with Solana was directly ahead of them, a dim light burned within. It was no mystery where the sound was coming from. Leliana turned, giving a small inclination of her head indicating he should follow. They moved back through his office and out, downstairs, to the quiet empty spot behind the barn where they could no longer hear the crying.

"She's been like this most nights since you left," Leliana said.

He wasn't sure how she expected him to react. Yes, it pained him to hear Solana's unhappiness, but it was of her own making.

"What do you want from me? Do you want me to feel sorry for her?"

"Why did you come back?" Leliana asked

"My child's here."

"Is that all?"

Cullen growled and raked a hand through his hair. "You're upset with me for leaving."

"No, Commander. _Leaving_ , I can understand."

"What, then?" Was she angry that she'd had to be the one to take action? They both knew how she felt about Solana. It must have pained her as much as it had pained him. Only that knowledge - and the memory of the tears rolling down her face - enabled him to keep his temper.

"Do you still love her, Commander?"

"Do you?"

Leliana's mouth formed a thin line and her eyebrows drew together. "Don't evade."

He sighed. "I've spent weeks asking myself that. And I'm here, aren't I? Shouldn't that be answer enough?"

Leliana nodded. She turned her head back towards the room. "I'm concerned about her. She… is not the same. I was with her after Alistair died. It was not like this." Her eyes met his again, glinting beneath her hood. "You have a decision to make, Commander. Either that weeping is your concern or it is not. If it is not, you should leave Skyhold."

He bristled. "My daughter is -"

"Perfectly safe and happy, surrounded by people who care about her welfare."

"I have a duty -"

"You are not irreplaceable, Commander."

Her words shouldn't have stung, but they did. Of course, she was right. Many could command the Inquisition's forces, possibly do an even better job of it than he. Still, in the time they'd worked together he had developed a grudging respect for Leliana. He had hoped it had cut both ways.

His expression must have showed more than he'd meant it to. He was so run down, so tired, that he wasn't managing to hide his feelings as well as he usually did. Leliana placed a hand on his arm.

"If you are here, if you choose to remain a presence in her life, if you choose to remain married to her, you need to be _here_. You need to make that weeping your concern. The rest of us might not need you, Commander. But she does."

"The fabled Hero of Fereleden needs me?" He didn't try to hide the bitterness.

Leliana pulled away from him and wandered across the small patch of grass, into the barn. He followed. Moonlight streaked the floor and a horse whinnied.

"For someone who's been through so much, you know remarkably little about the nature of power," she said. She reached out to stroke a horse's muzzle. "Power is a strange thing. You'd think it made one stronger, but in all my dealings with it, I've seen that to not be the case. Power makes us vulnerable. Solana's power has saved her life more times than I can count, but it's corrupted her as much as the taint did. Before she knew her power, she was nothing. Now she struggles to be anything but her power."

"I don't understand what you're saying."

"I'm saying that if you still care for her at all, you will help her find her way. It will likely not be easy."

How could he help Solana find her way when he couldn't even find his own?

Leliana focused on the horse, which nudged her hand, appreciating the attention. "However, I would not see you unhappy either," she said softly.

He second-guessed what he'd heard, but before he could ask for clarification, she looked up again.

"I have no desire to see you suffer in a loveless marriage, throwing away your life to ensure Solana…" whatever she was going to say, she let the sentence drop. "This is a good horse, one of the best. A fine Fereldan Forder. The saddlebags are packed." Her gaze cut to a corner where bags and riding tack were piled. "If you wish to disappear into the night, I will handle the fallout. You know I am capable of that at least."

"So, in other words, either I forgive Solana everything and carry on as if nothing's happened, or I leave now? What are the consequences if I don't?"

She smiled. "I'm not threatening you. On the contrary, I'm offering you an opportunity. I am offering you a _clean break,_ something few are afforded. Your leaving, anyone could understand. Especially if word gets out about what happened. You are the Templar, she is the mage, after all."

"And I suppose in this scenario you'd get the girl?" He said the words without much thought, too puzzled and suspicious to take care with them.

Leliana didn't flinch, but her eyes narrowed. "You know better than that."

He did. Solana preferred the company of men, no matter the spy mistress's personal desires. Cullen dropped his gaze.

"Why did you return?" Leliana asked again.

He couldn't answer.

"Did you return for the Inquisition? Did you return for your baby daughter? Or did you perhaps return because you missed her?"

Leliana didn't wait for an answer, perhaps she realised that he'd struggle to admit the truth.

"I'm not suggesting that you forgive everything, Commander. Only that you move forward, if you can. Living separate lives while you're both here, don't you see? Neither of you will be able to heal." She shrugged, a small movement accompanied by a self-deprecating smile. "My friend deserves better than that."

Fresh annoyance surged through him. "Oh, she does, does she?"

"I didn't mean Solana."

Cullen blinked at her. It seemed she was serious. He wasn't sure what to make of the declaration. He swallowed.

Leaving was the better option. The alternative was what? Opening himself up to Solana again? Just waiting for her power to get the better of her again, to lure her into some reckless adventure again? He wasn't certain he was capable of it. He wasn't certain he was strong enough.

He wanted to be near his daughter, but such thoughts were selfish when all he could offer was a cool obligatory presence. Rather she grow up knowing of him from stories. The stories were always better.

He thought of the calm, cool, empty mornings in South Reach. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

Solana's face was hot and her eyes were itching but she couldn't stop crying. It had been bad enough when he'd been gone, but now he was here, a few short metres away, it was almost worse. Was this to be their life now? Was this what she'd condemned them to?

The door clicked and she bolted upright, old instincts coming to the fore as she reached for her staff.

Cullen stepped in. His eyes slipped to his feet, but he said nothing. He said nothing as he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. She stayed stiff in his grasp, breathing unsteadily, hardly daring to believe that this wasn't some trick. But it was definitely him. It _smelled_ like him.

He smelled like the day Celeste had dropped water on her, that day he'd given her his surcoat. He smelled like that night in the Frostbacks, when she'd told him of Morrigan's offer and he'd held her until dawn. He smelled of the Chantry, when she'd made vows to protect him.

"Cullen," she whimpered.

Without warning, fresh sobs escaped her.

"I'm here," he whispered as he drew her to his chest.

* * *

The sound of the gaol door scraping against the concrete reverberated through Samson's skull earlier than usual.

He'd heard people saying the Commander was back, so he had a good idea what to expect, but when he peeked out from beneath his arms, he saw _her_ boots, _her_ skirts, the basket. She knelt down again.

"Good morning, Ser Samson. I've brought you bread."

"Why?"

She slipped the roll through the bars again and sank back onto her haunches. "A year ago, a friend brought me bread."

"That's nice," he said, sarcastically.

"She understood that past deeds do not make us who we are."

He lifted his head. "Past deeds? What did you do, Mage? Forget the words to one of the Chantry hymns?" With her long blonde hair and soft voice, she was certainly a Chantry type. And he was her latest goodwill project.

"My name's Celeste."

"If you're trying to save my soul, you're too late."

"You were corrupted."

"What does it matter? It was me. I believed in what I did then. Preach all you like about people changing from that side of the cell, but until you know…"

She pulled a small knife from her boot and sliced across her hand. Red blood pooled in her palm. Her eyes met his.

The blood went up in flames. Bright blue, so hot they almost singed his skin a few feet from her.

"I _know_ ," she said.

* * *

Cullen sat behind his desk, a small glass bottle in each hand. The one throbbed gently, like a heartbeat, as he turned it around and around. The other was empty.

Already he felt stronger, more capable. He'd taken a tiny amount this time, not like the last. No more than a fraction of what he'd been on in the Order. Just enough to help him cope. He was going to be a good Commander and a good husband and a good father, because this was his choice.

As for the other bottle, it was time that it returned where it belonged.

The lyrium had fully permeated his body by the time he reached the phylactery corridor. He felt almost cheerful as he passed through Solana's wards, the magic recognising him as a rightful visitor.

But all good humour left him the instant he opened the door.

The room was empty.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I WILL FIX EVERYTHING I PROMISE!

See you for Part 3 (a.k.a The End) soon :)


	66. Gone

A/N: Aaaand we're back! Thanks so much for your patience, that took longer than I expected but hopefully it will be worth it :). While the other parts are just over 30 chapters, this has 42 (and an epilogue). Everything's all beta'd and ready, so I'll be posting Mondays and Thursdays. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

There were so many people packed inside The Herald's Rest that Hawke couldn't even hear the bard. Not that he minded. She'd been trying out some new material about the Inquisitor and it wasn't quite there yet.

Wasn't quite _in tune_ yet.

He pushed another silver piece across the table. "Keep 'em comin."

The barkeep probably didn't hear him, but he knew the drill by now. He sloshed more ale into Hawke's mug without so much as looking at him.

Hawke took a long drink. Perhaps this one would bring oblivion. Or at the very least the kind of blackout where he woke in a stranger's bed with no clothes on and a shoe missing.

He was on his fourth or fifth gulp, chin pointed at the ceiling, foam running down his face, when someone jostled him and the rest of the drink ended up down his front.

"Oh for the love of–"

He slammed the mug down. He'd need to find somewhere else to drink. Now Corypheus was dead, it was like people had nothing to do at Skyhold besides fill up the tavern. Perhaps the Inquisitor would allow him to open a competing establishment. Perhaps then he could lure Varric back…

"Evening."

The man who'd slid in next to him was awfully polite for one of the Herald's Rest's patrons. Hawke was opening his mouth to give an automatic reply when it registered who it was.

"Cullen?"

The Commander scratched the back of his neck self-consciously and gave a small nervous laugh. He wasn't wearing his armour. It was the first time Hawke could remember seeing him without it. Even when they'd travelled together, he'd never emerged from a tent or inn room without it. He looked much… smaller.

Hawke blinked slowly to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Cullen was supposed to be in South Reach.

The blond man leaned across the bar and tried to flag down the barkeep. "Uh, excuse me, sorry?"

No, definitely Cullen.

Hawke stood and waved his mug. "Oy! Another one of these." When the barkeep took his mug, he yelled, "And one for my friend here."

 _Heh. Friend_. Now if that wasn't a more unexpected development than the Commander's arrival.

Cullen didn't seem to notice the slip. He sank back onto his stool and thanked Hawke, eyes darting around the room. He said something that Hawke didn't catch above the din.

"What?" Hawke yelled.

"I said, if this isn't the Herald's Rest. I mean, I know it is. I have been here before. With the advi-" he fell silent as his drink was placed in front of him. He reached into his pocket and started feeling for coin.

Hawke sighed and flicked another few copper across the counter.

"I've got it."

"Oh, I, thank you."

They drank in blissful silence for a time. But then, of course, Cullen had to say, "I, uh, I heard about Anders. I'm sorry."

Hawke snorted. _Great_ , exactly what he wanted to discuss.

"I really am. Sorry, I mean. Look, is there somewhere else we can talk perhaps?"

Somewhere else? He'd assumed the man was here to drink like everyone else. It hadn't occurred to him that he'd sought Hawke out intentionally.

"What about?"

"Sorry?

"What do you want to talk about? Because if it's about Anders, you can shove it."

Maker, the name still cut into him to the quick, as if he'd left yesterday and not almost a month ago. Hawke took another glug of alcohol. Cullen fell silent.

When Hawke came up for air, Cullen had his hands wrapped around his drink and he was staring off into the distance as if his heart had just been shattered.

Well, it had, hadn't it?

Hawke rose and tilted his head towards the stairs. "Come on."

Cullen looked at him, mouth forming an "o" of surprise, eyebrows drawing together in puzzlement. Hawke jerked his chin again and the Commander seemed to catch his meaning, rising to follow.

Up on the top level of the tavern, the noise of the crowd sounded more like the gentle roar of the ocean. Cole didn't seem to be about, but even if he was and Hawke had forgotten him, they still had more privacy than at the bar. Hawke settled on the top step and patted the spot beside him.

Cullen looked doubtful. But, after merely a moment's hesitation, he sat too.

"So, Commander, here's the rules. Every time you say his name, I say hers. Alright? So it's up to you. We can talk, or we can sit here in silence."

Cullen chuckled and tipped his mug in Hawke's direction. "Agreed."

He took a long drink. Hawke waited.

Eventually, Cullen lowered his mug and stared into it. "I think it's my fault."

"Which are we talking about?" _Anders or Solana?_

"Probably both," Cullen said, without expression. "But I mean Anders." His eyes darted to Hawke as if wary that he'd follow through with his threat.

"Oh, because you revealed his deep, dark, secret?" The words came out sounding more sarcastic than he'd meant. He could hardly close his eyes without seeing that room, with the vials of blood along the walls, without hearing Samson's agonised screams. It twisted his stomach. Yes, he'd been angry but… "I didn't throw him out if that's what you think. He chose to leave of his own accord."

"Yes, I… Solana mentioned."

"Ah, so you've seen her then?"

"Of course I have. She's my wife, is she not?"

"You tell me."

Cullen's gaze dropped to his drink and Hawke regretted his words. Touchy subject, clearly.

"Look, Cullen, you have enough to concern yourself with without taking the blame for my relationship falling apart. It's been on its last legs for… well, years, if I'm to be honest. Besides, if you had not taken me to that room I may well never have discovered his true reason for joining me here. He… he promised me that I was the… _urgh_ , it doesn't matter."

"No. I… I don't mean the experiments. To be honest, I didn't even know you were unaware. There was something else..." He trailed off.

"Something else?" Hawke prompted.

"When we were trying to get to… I asked him… I insisted… that he…" Cullen drew a deep breath. "We needed to get through the eluvian. If we hadn't, I hate to think what would have happened. We didn't know the key. Cole said that Justice could open it. But he'd need complete control."

Hawke lowered his mug. His heart was starting to race. "I see."

"We had to get to Alise. I… I was not in my right mind. I begged him to give over that control. He did so against his better judgement."

Anger flared from deep in Hawke's belly. He clenched his jaw.

"It was the only option. But I accept responsibility."

Hawke stood abruptly. He needed to go, be anywhere but there. Get away before he did something he'd regret. Already, he could feel his control slipping. Alcohol and these kinds of admissions? Not a good combination.

But Cullen was at once on his feet too. "Wait, please, there's more."

"No." The word was hard and cold and sharp. "No, I don't want to hear _more_."

"Hawke…"

"Do you have any idea how hard he fought, how long he struggled, to prevent that very thing from happening? He's been losing control for years. _Years,_ Cullen. I thought I lost him in Kinloch. When Justice took over, I thought he was through. But even then he was still fighting, still holding on, making sure that a part of him remained at all times. And you," he jabbed a finger at Cullen. "You ruined it." His voice cracked. "How could you do this? You saw what he did to that chantry! You know what he's capable of! And then you ran away and now, over a _month_ later, come back with your tail between your legs and tell me? Who knows what he's done since?"

Cullen held out his hands. "Please, remain calm."

"Remain calm? He could be on the other side of Thedas by now! What more do I possibly need to hear? What more do you thi-"

"Phylacteries," Cullen said.

"What?" Hawke's voice was broken even to his own ears.

Cullen's hands curled into tight fists. "Ferelden's phylacteries were stored here, for a time. Very few knew about them. I believe he might have. And I believe he might have taken them."

The mug slipped from Hawke's fingers, clanging onto the ground and bouncing halfway down the stairs.

"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" Cullen's voice seemed to come from a very far way away.

The phylacteries. Once they had spoken about them, cuddled up below the decks of one of the many ships they had sought passage on in their years of running together. They had fantasised about destroying them, setting all the mages free.

But that was another Anders, one who would never go near blood magic.

What would this Anders do? What would Justice do?

"Hawke?" Cullen pushed for an answer.

He shook his head. "None at all."

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the note, passing it to Cullen. It was ragged around the edges and crumpled from being folded and unfolded so many times. On it, in Anders's elegant hand, two words: _I'm sorry._

* * *

Cullen pushed his food around his plate. Solana had set a table up in their room so that they could dine together rather than down in the great hall. She'd risen early and picked up some fresh rolls and eggs from the kitchens. She'd even brewed some tea. It was weak and bitter, but Cullen drank it dutifully. She was trying. Trying to make everything better. Trying to make up for what she'd done with token domesticity.

"Love?"

He looked up, suddenly aware that she'd been speaking and whatever she'd said required an answer.

"Sorry, what was that?"

He watched her features for signs of annoyance, but there were none. She'd arranged them into unflappable brightness. "I was just saying that perhaps we should ask for leave to extend our quarters. If we built on further across the ramparts, Alise could have her own room."

Alise was asleep in her bassinet on Solana's side of the bed. She'd woken several times during the past two nights, no longer with tiny grunts of discomfort, but with howling agony as if in pain. Eventually, Cullen had queried whether this was normal. It was, Solana had assured him. This was how babies were _supposed_ to be.

"That sounds like a good idea," he said.

His mind was still on Anders. He was considering whether to tell the Inquisitor. He'd written to Varric and sent the letter personally so as to not alert Leliana. Perhaps Varric knew where Anders was, or could find out, before there was need to cause widespread panic.

"I was hoping you'd speak to the Inquisitor," Solana said.

Cullen jerked. She didn't seem to notice, she was pouring herself a cup of tea. "The Inquisitor?"

Her eyes rose to meet his. "About the room?"

"Oh, yes."

Was it possible that Solana was in on it? No, surely not. Although, how else could Anders have learned the location of the phylacteries? She _had_ wanted to break them.

 _Solana's power has saved her life more times than I can count, but it's corrupted her as much as the taint did._ Leliana's words echoed in his mind.

"Will you?" Solana asked.

He reached for a bread roll. "You should ask him yourself." Weren't they friends?

"I could I suppose, but I thought it would have more weight coming from you. You hold actual rank in the Inquisition, after all, and as one of his advisers…"

"You're the Hero of Ferelden, I'm certain they'd give you the entire guest suite if you asked."

She started at his use of her title, but he hadn't meant it sarcastically. Her eyes dropped down to her plate and with that, her facade dropped too. "Please don't call me that."

"I thought you'd grown accustomed to it?" She'd taken to using it herself.

"I… we both know it's not true." She rubbed her arms as if cold. "I'm no hero."

"Say what you will about what you've done, but I think we call can agree that if you are one thing it's a hero."

The words left his mouth without much thought but her gaze immediately locked with his. She was taking too much meaning from it.

"You cured our daughter of Tranquility and the Blight," he reminded her.

The intensity of her look was too much. He stood, picking up his surcoat. "I have duties to attend to. I should be home shortly after dark."

"All right, I'll have a meal ready. On the table."

"That's not necessary, Solana."

"I know it's not. I just… I'd like to."

He drew a deep breath and went around the table, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek. She tensed at his touch and when he drew away, her eyes were still closed as if she was trying to preserve the moment.

His stomach clenched. Maker, this was more difficult than he'd ever imagined it to be.

In his office, clarity awaited. He'd feel better soon.

* * *

The gaol was still cold in the mornings, even with the onset of spring. Celeste's breath puffed in front of her face as she entered the back cells.

"Good morning, Ser Samson."

He was sitting scrunched up, with his knees tight against his chest. She lowered herself to the floor before his cell.

"Mage," he said, from beneath his arms.

A chill rushed through her and instantly she felt like she was kneeling before a different Templar. She swallowed down her revulsion. "Please don't call me that."

He lifted his head just enough to peer at her. His eyes were less red than they'd been even a week before, but in the shadows beneath his brow it was impossible to tell their colour. Again, Celeste questioned her wisdom in coming here.

"How does _Maleficar_ work for you?" The way he said the word, she could hear every minute he'd spent as a Templar.

She turned her attention to her basket. The rolls were still warm to the touch as she unfolded them from a handkerchief. "Celeste is my name."

"I've been trying to place you, _Celeste_. You weren't one of the Kirkwall ones, were you? I would have remembered you. Although, what with the lyrium, who knows." He chuckled darkly.

"I wasn't."

"A blood mage in the Inquisition ranks." He whistled through his teeth. "Does Cullen know?"

"He does."

"Ha! Now that, _that_ I find surprising. What did you do to buy his silence, sleep with him?"

Celeste reached through the bars and held the roll out to him.

Samson ignored it. "No, Rutherford's not the type. You have dirt on him, don't you?"

"No."

Samson fell silent, continuing to stare at her. A line formed between his eyebrows as she tried not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice was suddenly soft and serious.

"I told you."

"You're feeding me bread because your friend fed you bread a year ago? Forgive my failure to follow that fine logic."

Celeste's arm was growing tired, so she pushed the handkerchief through and laid the bread roll on top of it on the floor between them. "I was there when the Inquisitor sentenced you. He said you're to serve the Inquisition."

"Yeah. Providing samples of blood and tissue for your arcanist and information for your interrogators. No one happened to mention bread rolls."

"You said there was nothing worthy left in you."

"Did I?"

This was pointless. However she formed the words in her head they sounded stupid or impossibly naive. She had half a mind to get up and leave, forget this entire endeavour.

He must have sensed her mood, because he reached forward and took the roll. He stared at it as if he had never seen its like. "There isn't, you know? A second chance is not enough to undo what I did. Second, third, fiftieth. I could become a fucking chanter and still never make up a fraction of…"

"Andraste's holy tears, will you stop wallowing?"

His eyes snapped up to hers. _Brown._

She fumbled for the next words. "Moaning about it won't change anything. You made a decision to do what you did, yes. But you also decided to take the lyrium I gave you, even though you knew it would extend your suffering, even though you knew what Fiona would do to you, and you feared the Inquisitor's vengeance. You chose to live. You chose to try-"

He snorted. "That was the cravings. They'll make you do _anything_."

"No it wasn't."

"I say it was."

"I don't believe you."

Samson's mouth twisted upwards in an almost-smile, showing his uneven teeth. "Well believe me, _Mage_."

 _Maker._ She closed her eyes. "Don't." But she'd given him a weapon against her now. _Stupid_. She spoke before he could use it again. "I've seen you, Samson, in the late hours of the night, in the earliest hours of the morn. I've seen you twisting and thrashing against your guilt. I know your burden. Maybe not… not all of it. But I have been where you are now, wrapped up in regret, poisoned from the inside by past deeds, paralysed by my own self _-hate_. I _know_ you, Raleigh Samson. I… I know you see me as some foolish girl who… dabbled in darkness or, or was misled a long time ago. And perhaps I am foolish. Perhaps I shouldn't be here trying to reach you. Perhaps there is no saving you from your past and from your own self-pity. But I… I've seen goodness in you. And I don't have it in me to leave you to rot. Solana didn't leave me. I won't leave you. I… just eat the bread."

When she opened her eyes again, he was still staring at her, but there was something different about the look. His eyes were wide and he said nothing. Quietly, he bit into the roll.

* * *

Cullen paused outside Trevelyan's door, running through exactly how he'd break the news about the phylacteries. The lyrium had been just the boost he'd needed to bring his mind to clarity. He had taken the men through their morning drills, inspected the barracks and caught up on many of the reports on what had transpired in the time he'd been away.

Skyhold was an almost entirely different place now. More mages, fewer soldiers, and the Grey Wardens had almost completely trickled away to do whatever they did when not at war. Many of the Inquisitor's companions had also left and, walking through the quiet halls, Cullen found he recognised few faces.

He drew a deep breath. The lyrium had also helped him make up his mind about _this._ He had to tell Trevelyan. It was the right thing to do, even if it did make him look incompetent. Even if it did cast doubt on Solana.

What was the alternative? Wait weeks to hear back from Varric and hope the dwarf's letter said, "Hi Curly, don't worry, I know exactly where Anders is. I have the phylacteries. I'm sending them back to you. Please find them attached?"

That wouldn't happen, and the longer Cullen kept his own failure silent, the further away Anders would get.

He squared his shoulders, took another long, deep breath, and held his fist above the door ready to knock.

"Don't be like this!" Trevelyan's voice from within, followed by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Max, I have a duty." Cassandra said.

Cullen paused. He had no desire to eavesdrop.

"To the Void with your duty! You have given them enough." A second set of footsteps echoed down towards the door.

"You only say that because you want me to remain here." It sounded like she was standing right beside the door. Would she hear Cullen if he left?

"That's not true. What about the Seekers?" Now the Inquisitor was also by the door. Cullen didn't know what to do.

"What about them?" Cassandra shot back at Trevelyan.

"You were going to rebuild them."

"And now I will be in a unique position to do so."

"Don't." Trevelyan's voice was soft, but he was standing close enough that Cullen could still hear every word. "Please."

There was a long pause and Cullen dared not even breathe. Should he stay? Should he leave?

He was still trying to decide, when Cassandra spoke again. "You know how I feel about you, but please don't make me choose."

"I would never ask that of you," his voice was still low. "Besides, I know that I would lose. I've known it from the start, Cassandra. You came into my arms with the caveat that what we had was temporary, an escape from your grief. I'm not Regalyan. I could never replace him."

"Why would you say such a thing?"

"Because it's true and I accept it. I'm not asking you to decline to keep you here. I'm asking you because I care about you. Dammit, I love you. And being Divine will not make you happy. You need to be somewhere where you can brandish a sword. Even if it's not at my side. If you wish to leave the Inquisition, then by all means leave. Go and rebuild your Seekers. But don't leave because Orlais wishes for you to be their latest pawn. Please."

"Max…"

Cullen's neck heated. _Cassandra, the next Divine?_ She hadn't said anything to him when she'd debriefed him the day before. There had been a stiffness about her, but he'd put it down to a reaction to his presence. When he'd run from the Wilds, she'd accused him of abandoning his men. It was expected that she have even stronger feelings about the way he'd fled Skyhold. But perhaps he hadn't been the reason after all.

Cassandra spoke again, "I need to do this. It's me or that ambitious viper."

Cullen had been under the impression that Leliana was also up for Divine, but he couldn't imagine Cassandra speaking of her in such a way. She must have meant the mage, Madame de Fer, the Lady of Iron. His reports said that she'd been campaigning hard for the return of the Circles. From what he understood, she was the main reason Fiona had returned to Val Royeaux. If de Fer came to power, it would mean… he shut his eyes before he spiraled too far into _what ifs_. Solana may not have been a Grey Warden anymore, but she was still the Hero of Ferelden. They wouldn't throw her back into a Circle, would they?

"It's not fair," Trevelyan said on the other side of the door, sounding for the first time in Cullen's memory like the petulant lord he'd expected when they'd first met.

"Since when has life been fair, to either of us?"

"It led me to you."

Cassandra tsked. There was a pause before she said, "Max, this is what the Maker wills."

"But you don't want it."

"I keep telling you, what I _want_ is not important."

"It is to me. Tell me you want this, and I will-"

"I _want_ this."

"Really?" He sighed. "Very well."

Cullen heard Max's boots on the stairs again and only had an instant to prepare himself before the door opened. Cassandra jumped when she saw him there, still frozen as if about to knock.

He cleared his throat. "Good morning, I eh… I just got here."

"Is that Cullen?" Trevelyan's voice came from inside.

"Yes," Cassandra said. Her eyes narrowed and Cullen's stomach jerked. He didn't want her to guess how much he'd heard.

"I… if this is a bad time?"

"No, it's not a bad time," Cassandra said. "I was leaving."

At the top of the stairs, Cullen found Trevelyan pouring himself a drink. His hair was ruffled as if he'd recently risen, although the bed was made and he was dressed for the day ahead.

"Cullen, welcome back. I'm sorry I haven't come to see you yet. Paperwork, you know how it is." He glanced up and forced a smile. "How is the family?"

"They are… well."

Silence fell as Trevelyan downed the contents of his glass.

"I… uh. I wished to thank you for granting me leave at such short notice."

Trevelyan waved away the statement. "Please. I'm only glad you returned. Things weren't the same without you here."

"Cassandra is a capable…" Cullen trailed off, realising his error in mentioning her.

Trevelyan offered another smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "She is, isn't she? Capable." He forced a laugh. "But I'm sure you didn't come here to speak about Cassandra's merits, varied as they may be. What can I do for you?"

Cullen's mouth moved but no sound came out. He couldn't speak of the phylacteries now, not when he'd just witnessed what he had. "It… it's not important."

"Come now, you're here. I have a few minutes. Out with it."

His stomach formed an anxious knot. _Just say it._ _The sooner you say it, the sooner the resources of the Inquisition can be put to use on this._ The sooner blame can be laid, the sooner respect can be lost, the sooner the broken-hearted Trevelyan can be squashed under an additional burden.

"It's, uh, Solana wished to know if we might extend our quarters."

Cullen's heart pounded traitorously, each beat a reminder of his cowardice and pride. Each thud urging him to give an addendum, but he remained silent.

"Extend your quarters?" Trevelyan frowned at the unexpected question. "Oh, you mean along the battlements? Well that's a fine idea. I don't see why not. Your little one will need more space as she grows older. Speak to Berinole, I know he was doodling up some plans for general expansions, but I'm afraid I have not been able to look into them yet."

"Thank you, I shall."

"And feel free to requisition whatever you need. You're one of my most trusted advisers, I would see you comfortable."

"That's very kind."

How much of the offer was kindness, and how much was Trevelyan trying to ensure Cullen didn't leave again? Regardless, the news would certainly please Solana.

"Was that all?"

Guilt pulled at Cullen's gut. _Say it._

"Yes, Inquisitor. Thank you."

Perhaps Varric would have some good news after all.

Or else Maker help them all.


	67. This divide

_Dearest Isabela,_

 _You owe me._

 _And this letter better find you, because I spent fair coin..._

 _Point is, Anders is gone. Took something important._

 _I know we had our differences, but I also know you can find him. I need to know where he is._

 _Did I mention that you owe me?_

 _Hawke._

* * *

 _Dearest Hawke,_

 _It's Admiral Isabela now._

 _Signed,_

 _Admiral Isabela._

* * *

 __

 _Dearest_ _Admiral_ _Isabela,_

 _Need I remind you that I fought (and killed) a qunari arishok after you ran away with his precious book? I could have died. Very nearly did._

 _I helped you find that Maker-forsaken book._

 _Help me find Anders._

 _Please._

 _Hawke.  
_

* * *

 _Dearest Hawke,_

 _Fine._

 _Admirable Isabela._

* * *

"Does the Commander even eat breakfast?" Celeste asked, glancing at Solana only briefly as she opened the oven door.

Around them, the kitchen hummed with activity as the staff prepared for the day ahead. Solana tried to stay out of the way, pressing herself into the corner by the ovens. Every so often, someone would push past and click their tongue at her.

"He's eaten it every day for the past two weeks."

"And he's enjoyed it?" Celeste pricked one of the rolls and then closed the oven door again. When she turned back to Solana, her cheeks were rosy from the heat.

Solana wrung her hands, fiddled with her wedding rings. "I don't know what to do. I just want to make everything better."

"And you think forcing breakfast upon the poor man will make him instantly forgive you?"

"No." Solana focused on the oven. Celeste was one of the few people who knew the truth and hadn't turned from her. Even so, Celeste hadn't entirely forgiven her either. "It's not… I don't expect him to forgive me. I just want to be the kind of wife he deserves. I don't want him to regret coming back."

"Solana, Cullen knew what he was agreeing to when he married you. You're a Circle mage."

"He's been staying with his family. You didn't see what they were like, Celeste." The warm kitchen, Mia's hugs, Maralie's assurances. "That's what he grew up with. That's what I should be."

Celeste opened the oven again and peered inside, but said nothing.

"Besides, I think it will be good for us. We didn't really talk before, when he was leading the fight against Corypheus. We hardly saw each other. If we're sitting down to meals twice a day maybe things will be different."

"Step back."

Solana moved out of the way as Celeste guided the tray out of the oven with magic - probably the very spell Solana had taught her for lifting water. Now Celeste did it with ease, setting the tray carefully down on the stone countertop.

"All I'm saying is don't try _too_ hard," she said.

"You think it's wasted effort?"

Celeste let out a breath and shook her head. "No. I mean… when I first returned to Denerim during the Blight, I didn't tell my family what happened. I couldn't. I was a mess. My sister realised it must have been something terrible. I think she guessed the gist of it. Anyway, she'd do what you're doing now. She'd flap around me, making me food I didn't want to eat, asking me questions, not taking her eyes off me. I know she was worried, and in retrospect it was really sweet of her. But it created this sense of… expectation. It made me _less_ comfortable. Cullen's back, he's been back for weeks now. He's made his decision. Just… let him get over things at his own pace."

He _had_ seemed distant, but that was to be expected wasn't it? It was so hard to tell whether he was annoyed or if it was just… a remnant. "Are the rolls ready? I should get back. I left Alise with him."

Celeste smirked.

"What?"

"Nothing. Let me know how that goes." She waved a hand and two rolls lifted off the tray and into Solana's basket. Solana was opening her mouth to respond, when Celeste waved her hand again and an additional two rolls lifted off the tray. They hovered through the air, dipping and disappearing under one of the tables.

"And that?" Solana asked, eyebrows raised.

Celeste shrugged nonchalantly. "For later."

Were her cheeks still coloured from the oven or was she blushing?

***

Solana heard the screaming from the bailey. She broke into a sprint, bursting through the door to find Cullen holding Alise at arm's length. Her face was red, her head was thrown back and she kept bringing her limbs into her centre and then flinging them out again in anger. Cullen was staring at her, pale and bewildered.

"I didn't do anything," he said.

Solana dumped the basket on the table. "Don't hold her like that."

"She was wiggling and kicking me."

"Did you check her? Does she need to be changed?"

"Yes, of course I checked her!"

Solana took the baby into her arms and held her to her chest.

"Maybe she's hungry?" Cullen suggested.

"No, I fed her just before I left. Shhh, love, shhh." Solana bounced her gently and her cries grew softer and then she fell silent, blinking as if started by her own behaviour.

"How did you do that?" Cullen wanted to know.

"For starters, I didn't hold her out in the middle of the air." Solana's heart was racing, her stomach still clenched in reaction to her daughter's screams.

"I didn't…" Cullen swallowed, wiped a hand across his forehead. "I was holding her properly. We were looking at the pictures." He gestured to the frames along the wall that now held the portraits of the Amells that Hawke had given Solana. "She was fine. Then she just started screaming."

"You must have frightened her."

"I _didn't_." He sank onto the bed. "Not intentionally."

He frowned at the ground, his shoulders sagged. 

_Good going, Solana. Fantastic job being the supportive wife._

She settled beside him. "Perhaps you're just unfamiliar."

"I'm her _father_."

"Yes, but she doesn't know you yet. Perhaps she grew frightened. I'm not apart from her often. Ever, really."

"I'm her father, she shouldn't be frightened of _me_."

Solana placed a tentative hand on his arm. "She won't be for long. She just needs time."

"Time…" Cullen repeated.

* * *

Cullen's hands were shaking by the time he reached his office. He'd been slowly raising his dosage, but apparently not slowly enough. He fumbled for the kit, mixing the solution as fast as he could.

He'd reduce his daily dose again once things calmed down. Once he found Anders. But right now it was the only way to cope, it was the only way to think straight.

It would be easier if he could hate Solana, but she had done absolutely nothing since his return to warrant even the slightest annoyance. If she was guilty of anything, it was of being too perfect. She was everything he'd always dreamed she'd be back in the Circle, back in that Harrowing Chamber when he'd fantasised about a life with her. He had pictured her gentle and attentive, a precise counterpoint to the horrors that had surrounded him then.

So why was he not happy now that she was those things? Why did her behaviour do nothing to soothe him? On the contrary, he found himself anxious around her. He was no longer a stammering fool in her presence, he simply could not think of a single thing to say. He had elected to put what she'd done behind him. And yet the things that were unsaid loomed so large that there seemed no space for conversation at all.

He still hadn't told her about the phylacteries.

He hadn't told Trevelyan either. When he'd gone back to do so, he'd found the man packing for an excursion to the Frostback Basin, surrounded by servants. And now he was away and Cassandra was in charge.

Cassandra, who was already angry with him, already doubting his ability and worthiness to lead. Cassandra, who would soon be Divine. It was this more than anything that caused Cullen to keep his failure from her. If the Chantry knew about the phylacteries, there was no telling what they would do.

He lifted the philter to his lips, whispered his usual prayer and the door slammed open. The vial slipped from his fingers, splashing precious liquid across his desk as it hit the table and rolled onto the floor.

 _Bloody blast it!_ He'd left the door ajar. He shot to his feet, tossing a book over the incriminating lyrium kit.

The recruit who entered was looking down at a report, thank the Maker for small mercies. "Commander, Conder and Shelnen have returned."

Cullen could hardly be angry with him for entering. He had insisted that he know the instant his men returned from Jader.

He strode around his desk, gripping his sword pommel to hide his quivering hands. "And?"

The recruit glanced up. "No sign of the apostat- sorry, sir." Old habits died hard, clearly. This must have been one of the ex-Templar recruits. "No sign of the mage, himself. They spent some time questioning the dockworkers and one thinks he might have seen him leave a few weeks ago. Would you like to speak with them?"

He passed Cullen the report. Cullen knew it would be comprehensive. That was partly why he'd sent Shelnen. He was always very thorough.

"That won't be necessary right now, thank you. I'll speak to them later once they've had time to rest."

"As you wish, sir."

"Dismissed."

The recruit left and Cullen sank back into his chair.

 _Close. Too close._ His men had already lost respect for him when he'd run away. How much more would they lose when they discovered he was too weak to stay off lyrium? And if Solana found out…

No, he needed to be more careful. He'd been in too much of a rush to get to his dose this morning and it had almost cost him everything. He couldn't let that happen again.

He drew one last steadying breath before wiping up his mess.

Then, the report.

The man who said he'd seen Anders claimed he recognised him from Kirkwall where he'd tended to his sick wife. He'd seen him four weeks prior. The timeline matched up. But one critical piece was missing. There was no mention of any cargo. Anders had apparently taken ship with nought but a sack over his shoulder.

So was this dockworker confused? Lying? Protecting Anders?

And if he truly had seen him, that in itself was an oddity. A mage as adept at escaping capture as Anders would surely have been more careful?

As far as leads went, this one was useless. _Useless!_

Cullen threw the report across the room. He growled as he scrubbed at his face with his hands.

 _What did you expect? That he'd be staying at a fancy inn overlooking the ocean just waiting for your men to come knocking? You're an idiot._

Yes, an idiot. An idiot who didn't know what more to do. Surely the commander of the greatest army in Thedas could find one man?

Not alone.

Not without help.

With a shuddering breath, he rose and went to lock the doors. One by one, he slid bolts methodically into place. Then he retrieved the philter, uncovered the box, closed his eyes and said a prayer for clarity.

It took no more than a few minutes for the lyrium to take effect. It sang in his head, in his heart, in his veins.

Cumberland.

Anders had been heading to Cumberland, according to the dockworker. That's where Cullen would have to inquire next. If he managed to pick up the trail again, he'd have confirmation that Anders really had travelled that way.

Cumberland… Possibilities blossomed in his mind. Hundreds of them, stretching out before him. He could almost picture them, like a map. Cumberland was on the Imperial Highway. It was the port that linked Orlais and Nevarra. He had men in Hunter Fell. And, through Nevarra, was Tevinter. Could Anders be taking Ferelden's phylacteries to Tevinter? Dorian could make inquiries. He would do so on behalf of Hawke, surely? Even if he thought this no more than a lovers' spat.

All was not lost just yet. Cullen needed to send some birds.

***

The tower was dimmer than Cullen recalled, and quieter. There had always been great numbers of birds coming and going whenever he'd visited before, but now merely a handful glided from perch to perch, a testament to the newfound peace.

He didn't see Leliana at first, and was about to call for her, when one of the shadows along the wall moved. She was sitting on a bench, watching him from beneath her hood.

He forced a smile. "Good morning."

"Is it?"

He drew a steadying breath as he moved towards her. It took nearly all of his effort not to fidget, to keep his gaze firm. "I haven't had the chance to thank you for the other night." _Other night_ , as if it hadn't been weeks before.

Her pink lips formed a smirk. "Careful, Commander. You wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea."

He felt the flush creeping up his neck and he cleared his throat at the sudden tightness constricting it. "You know what I meant." There didn't seem to be anyone else listening in - the nearest of her scouts was across the room reading a message that had just arrived. Still, he was very much aware of how efficient the Skyhold rumour mill was.

Leliana rose. "Yes. How is Solana?"

"She is well. She seems well. Happy, I think. It's… in truth, it's hard to tell."

Leliana drifted past him towards her desk. "I'm sure she's glad to have you back."

"You haven't spoken with her?"

She paused in her movement, then stiffly bent to pick up a scroll. "No."

That surprised him. "When last did you speak?"

She didn't look at him. "I don't believe that's what you came here for?"

He was always wary of pressing Leliana, but he continued regardless. "You _have_ spoken to her since the... eluvian, though?"

"No. I haven't." She turned to him. "Is there something else I can help you with?"

Now he saw her eyes and his breath halted in his chest. He saw in them a reflection of everything he'd been feeling since that day. Leliana scowled, knowing she was caught.

"Leliana, you should speak to her."

She'd pushed him. This could go both ways.

"I have no desire to."

"Because you don't approve of what she did."

"Because I killed her!" The exclamation was enough to draw the eyes of the other scouts, but Leliana did not seem troubled by that. She sank into her chair.

Cullen stepped closer to her. "She's hardly going to blame you for that."

"Maybe not, but it should never have gotten that far. I failed her."

"If anyone failed Solana, it was me," Cullen admitted stiffly. "I was with her when she discovered the cure, I… I spent the night with her." Again, embarrassment crawled across his skin, but he forged on. "She was there, in my arms. If anyone should have had the foresight to stop her, it was me."

Leliana stared at him like she was looking into his heart. "I don't mean the ritual itself, Commander. I mean all of it. Blood magic happening right here, people experimenting on our prisoners, Warden Cassey leading the Inquisitor into the Fade… she took over his _mind_. If she had been any more ambitious…" Leliana shook her head. "How much else is happening here that I don't know about? I always thought that... " She let out a hollow laugh. "I told myself that the Maker chose me for this, that I was a uniquely talented player of The Game, that I was the best the Inquisition could hope for. But that simply isn't true. I've lost my touch. Or perhaps I never had it at all." She looked out the window towards the Frostbacks.

Cullen's heart thundered. This wasn't the spymaster he knew. He searched for something to say. "How can you doubt yourself after everything we've achieved here?"

Her eyes rolled to meet his again. "I was responsible for the fall of Haven too. Did the Inquisitor ever tell you that?" His expression must have confirmed he hadn't because she continued, returning her gaze to the window. "My scouts started disappearing. I pulled them back, waiting for more intelligence. And then the Red Templars came."

"There's no good in blaming yourself for something so far in the past." He knew a great deal about guilt. If you let it, it would eat you alive.

"Isn't there?"

"I could just as easily shoulder the blame for Haven. We weren't prepared, we were not fortified against any kind of assault, much less a dragon. None of us knew about Corypheus."

"But we should have. We would have. If I was worthy of this position, we-"

On a whim he reached forward and seized her hand. She started, head snapping to stare at him. "You called me your friend. The other night. As your friend, I am telling you that Haven was not your fault, and neither is what happened with Solana."

"I still should have-"

He pressed his letters into her hand before he could think better of it. "We have bigger concerns."

He studied her as she examined the letters. This hadn't been his intention. He'd meant to borrow a bird or two with minimal explanation, he'd meant to let her think he was doing Hawke a favour. He'd even had a speech prepared. And while she scanned the pages, his pulse raced. He swallowed again.

"Why are you trying to find Anders?" she asked.

He felt nauseous. Where did he start? This would make everything worse, surely. If she discovered the phylacteries had been here without her knowl-

A sharp intake of breath interrupted his thoughts and her eyes stretched wider. "Maker, tell me this isn't what I think?"

"That would depend on what you think."

"But Solana warded them."

Relief flushed through him. She knew about the phylacteries already. That was half the battle won. "She did," he confirmed. "Which is why I haven't told her they're missing."


	68. The ways of nobler men

"Let's be certain I understand. You suspect that Solana, your wife, the Hero of Ferelden, who requested as her only boon after halting the last Blight that the Circle mages be set free, who's been patiently helping the mages adjust to that freedom for the last year… you suspect that _that_ Solana assisted Anders with a plot to steal the phylacteries belonging to those very mages?" Leliana paced before the window, her hands behind her back.

She'd instructed her agents to leave them so they could speak alone. Cullen sighed. "You needn't make it sound so… paranoid. You're the one who warned me her power would corrupt her."

Her sharp gaze came to rest on him. "This was not what I meant."

He eased himself onto the bench against the wall. "Is it so inconceivable, though? I don't want to believe she was involved, but she did set up the wards. They repelled darkspawn. And you can't tell me that Anders came upon the room by accident."

Leliana frowned. "Who else knew about the phylacteries?"

"Aside from Trevelyan? Darrow, Lysette… they are the only two who still live. I would trust them both with my life."

"Still live?"

Of course she would pursue. He shifted, his guilt sitting heavy in his stomach. "There were two others, they passed in the Arbor Wilds."

"Oh." Leliana's eyes were still focused on him. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. It was war, losses were to be expected. "Who told you? Or did your spies inform you?"

She smirked and, to his surprise, came to sit beside him. "The Inquisitor informed me. He was… concerned I might act irrationally should I find your people sneaking about."

"Is it possible he told anyone else?"

"You could ask him?"

Cullen said nothing.

"He doesn't know they're gone."

"No. He… I meant to inform him, but I was unable to catch him alone before he left for the Frostback Basin." A lie, but better than telling her he'd been too much of a coward.

"There was a night, towards the end of the Blight." Leliana's voice went low and soft, as if she was lost in memory. "There was a night that her wards failed. Darkspawn invaded our camp, tried to kill us in our sleep. We were very nearly overwhelmed. She never mentioned what went wrong. Perhaps they simply overwhelmed her magic. Last month when… Justice was strong. Stronger than I would have expected."

Was there an unspoken accusation? Nothing about her expression indicated she blamed Cullen for that strength.

"You believe he simply broke through Solana's ward?"

"It is possible. He still would have had to know where it was and what it hid, however. That night during the Blight, Alistair said the archdemon sent the darkspawn to us. It could sense our location, because of the taint. I don't know how Anders would have discovered the location of the phylacteries."

"I can only think of one way." Cullen dropped his head forward into his hands. "The day that Cassey approached us with her plan, we tracked Solana. She passed through that corridor with Anders. At the time, I accused her... She denied it, of course. But perhaps…"

"You believe she lied?"

"I don't know what to believe about her anymore." He felt Leliana's gaze on him again and he wished she'd look away. "I don't believe she has malicious intent. That, at least, I'm certain of. If she is aiding Anders, it will be because he's doing something she believes is right. And Maker help anything that stands between my wife and what she believes is right."

Leliana drew a deep breath but didn't offer comment, and every moment of her silence was measured by Cullen's heartbeat. When had Leliana's opinion of him started to matter? He waited for her condemnation, or assurance. Neither came.

"I wonder," she said, eventually. "What would Anders do with the phylacteries? I would have assumed he would break them, erase the final thing that ties so many mages to the Chantry. To take them…" She wandered over to her desk. "It doesn't make sense."

She tapped her bottom lip, eyebrows drawn together. "How many boxes were there? Enough to fill that room, certainly. Too many for one man to carry."

"The sister who brought them had them delivered in a single cart."

Leliana rifled through papers. "People come and go from Skyhold all the time, but my people keep records. If we search through them around the time he left, we can draw up a shortlist of the possible accomplices." She grinned at him. "I hope you like paperwork, Commander. This could take us some time."

* * *

"You seem to be in a good mood," Samson said, keeping his voice level.

He watched Celeste's delicate fingers as she tucked the handkerchief into her basket. Her eyes were downcast, but she was smiling. It was a rare expression and it made his heart do _things_. Things he wasn't sure he liked. He'd been trying to stare less, but his desire to study her had grown with each visit. _Lecherous fool_. But moments like this, when she was distracted, he let himself drink her in.

"Special occasion?" he asked.

Her gaze flicked up to his. "No, not really. Not _yet_."

 _Yet?_ His stomach clenched. The immediate thought that jumped into his mind, was an engagement. Of course, she would have suitors. And it shouldn't matter to him.

Over the past weeks of shared breakfasts, they had talked a great deal, but he still knew so little about her. She'd confessed she came from Ferelden. Blood mage, Kinloch Hold. It didn't take a lot of imagination to figure out her past from that. But mostly they had talked about him. He'd told her about Meredith. He'd told her everything about the night that Corypheus had found him. He'd told her many of the things that had happened since. She knew at least as much by now as his interrogators did, maybe more. And what he knew of her amounted to something akin to one of those Chantry windows made up of pieces of coloured glass. Only, he hadn't filled in all the pieces yet. He had an outline, and each morning he'd look forward to being able to fill in something else. Her hair, he'd learned yesterday, was not naturally blonde. She'd been a redhead once. He had stared at her for a good few minutes trying to picture it after that revelation, until she'd blushed and asked him to stop.

And today's revelation would be what brought that smile to her lips.

"Don't make me pry," he prodded.

She glanced at him from beneath her long lashes. "Alright, I received word today that someone's coming to visit me here, possibly to stay."

Traitorous heart, thumping far louder than it had any right to. Traitorous tongue, asking the question even though he had no desire to know the answer. "Someone?"

She was sunshine and he was dirt. Or, that mucky water in the canal near the corner he'd once called home. Was it not enough to crave lyrium? Must he crave this too?

"What was that about not prying?" she teased, and smiled again.

The conversation felt like walking over broken glass. Every step threatened to slice into him. _Stupid idiot._ "Come on, you can tell me. It's a fella, isn't it? Gotta be to make you smile so wide."

The moment she took to answer seemed to stretch. His breath stopped. _What in the Void is wrong with me?_

"It is."

She was still smiling and he tried to keep his own smile firmly in place despite the icy fingers wrapping around his heart.

"It's my son."

The air left his lungs in a whoosh of relief and surprise. "Your... son?"

She had a child. Well, fancy that.

Celeste nodded, gaze dropping down to the basket again. "I left him in Denerim when I joined the mages. I wanted him to be safe. And while Skyhold was…"

"While Skyhold was under threat from me, you mean? Wasn't safe to have the lad here."

"Well, yes."

And here he was leering at her. _Sick._ "And the father?"

She squirmed as if something cold and wet had run down her neck. "He's not in the picture."

"You can't mean he left you?" No one would do that.

"No. He's dead."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be. I have Ren." She made a brave effort at another smile, but it wasn't the same.

* * *

Cullen hovered in the upper bailey. The sun was already high, it shouldn't be too much trouble to pull Solana away from her duties under the guise of a mid day meal.

He ran through what he'd say for the umpteenth time. He hated this. He'd prefer to be direct, but if he simply asked her what she knew of the phylacteries, what was to stop her from lying? Or from giving him the answer she thought he wanted to hear?

He'd tried numerous times over the last weeks to tease the truth from her, without being too obvious. He'd asked about Anders, claiming concern for Hawke, who had been planted in front of the bar ever since Cullen had returned. He'd asked her tentatively about the mages, and he'd been rewarded with enthusiastic explanations of her lessons. He'd made the mistake of mentioning the Circles once. She'd refused to speak to him on the subject, fearing a fight. He knew the techniques for getting answers - nonviolent ones had proved as effective as the alternatives more often than not. But as of yet, none of his strategies had worked on her.

Leliana was unsatisfied with waiting. If Solana was in league with Anders, she was their best hope of finding him. And if he couldn't determine where her loyalties lay, Leliana had volunteered to.

He didn't want to think what that might entail. Leliana had killed Solana, how much of a leap was it to believe she'd interrogate her?

He closed his eyes and said a brief prayer. The lyrium would help.

He could not see Solana as he made his way down to the lower courtyard. There were a few people hovering about, it didn't seem like a lesson was underway and for a glorious moment he thought he'd missed her. He could put off this confrontation for another time.

But then some merchants moved aside and there she was, kneeling on the grass, surrounded by a throng of children. Her light blue robes almost glowed in the bright sunshine. Her fiery hair escaped from a pin where she'd piled it haphazardly, and it gathered in long almost-blonde wisps against her neck. She was smiling and happy and perfect. His heart started racing.

Solana held out a small white flower bud to the youngest child, a little redheaded girl who could be no older than eight years of age. The child accepted it with her eyebrows drawn together in concern.

"Now concentrate, just as I showed you," Solana said.

The little girl narrowed her eyes. "It's not working."

"Remember, you're not grabbing it, you're letting it flow through you. Imagine your power is a beam of light caressing the petals to wakefulness."

 _Your power._ She _was_ training mages. Only… smaller ones than he'd anticipated.

A smile grew on the little girl's face and before their eyes, the flower started to unfurl.

"You see," Solana said. "You _can_ do it. It's _your_ power. It does only as you will."

An older boy, standing at the girl's side, interjected, "My pa said magic is evil."

Solana lifted her gaze to meet his. "If magic was evil, how is it I used it to stop the Blight? Magic is a tool. It's no more good or evil than the sunlight that feeds our crops but can also burn our skin. A good man will use magic for good ends."

The boy appeared to think about this, chewing on his cheek. "But the Chant says-"

Words came forth from Cullen's mouth automatically. "The Chant says magic is to serve man, never to rule over him."

Solana snapped her attention to him, obviously startled by his sudden appearance. The children gasped and whispered. Then Solana smiled once again, at _him_. Warmth flushed down his spine.

"Commander Cullen, sir," the boy said. "What about the magisters? Corypheus and the other mages that started the Blights?"

"I don't want to start a Blight." The little girl frowned at the flower in her hand.

Cullen went to stand beside his wife. "Those mages were guilty of more than simply using magic. They broke into the Golden City by sacrificing their slaves and using _blood_ magic. The biggest threat you will face as a mage is not your own power, but the demons who seek it in your dreams. So long as you continue to deny them, you walk in the Maker's light."

Solana's expression clouded and she dropped her head. "Yes," she agreed. "Commander Cullen is correct."

 _Oh Maker,_ he hadn't meant… she thought he was talking about her. He cleared his throat, uncertain how to correct his error.

"Why don't you all go play?" Solana suggested to her charges.

As the children ran off, the little girl still proudly clutching her flower, Cullen searched for something to say. Solana moved away from him. Alise's basket was in the shade of a nearby tree and Solana settled herself down again beside her daughter. He followed.

"Solana, I... I was…" He cleared his throat again. "It's a nice day. Perhaps we should have lunch together."

Her bright green eyes locked to his and in an instant he saw pain, hope, shame flash across her expression. "You don't have to do that."

He eased himself down beside her. "I'd like to."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why'?"

"You'll see me at dinner, you saw me at breakfast."

He bristled. "I apologise, I didn't realise I had a strict allotment of time with you."

Breath hissed from between her teeth. "That's not what I meant." Her gaze slid from his. "You haven't had much to say to me these past weeks, even at meal times. I'm… surprised you desire my company. That's all."

"You are my wife," he said, not knowing what else to say.

"Yes…" She watched their sleeping daughter. "I am your wife, and you wish to discuss something specific. You're not one for picnics, or lunch, or food in general if we're to be honest. Which means you have a reason for this meeting, just as you have a reason for everything you do. And if we are to talk seriously, I would rather we do so here. Unless it is something sensitive, in which case we can return to our quarters. I would rather not… I'd rather not pretend it's something it's not." A small smile flickered on her lips, but she looked inexorably sad.

She was also right and he tasted the humiliation, as bitter as defeat. He knew it was likely written across his face. So he did the only thing he could think to do. He lunged forward and kissed her.

She went stiff with surprise, and for an instant he thought he'd made an awful mistake. Then her fingers curled around the back of his neck and her lips responded. Heat raced through him at the taste of her, the feel of her. Lips soft and familiar, it felt like returning home after a long time away. And it _had_ been a long time. The last time he'd kissed her like this had been that night.

The night she'd left him and taken their daughter into danger.

The memory instantly cooled his passions and he pulled away, finding her breathless, eyes closed.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't… it was too… he stumbled to his feet, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

He was across the courtyard and halfway to his office before he even knew he'd decided to leave.

* * *

The larder was always cold no matter the time of year, but this day Celeste didn't mind. She couldn't stop smiling and had even caught herself humming.

She was going to see Ren again. Soon. The letter from her sister sat in her apron pocket and she kept taking it out and re-reading it. When she'd suggested he come, she hadn't expected the next letter would say he was already on his way. Her nerves fluttered. Would he even recognise her after so long apart? _Two years._ How tall he must be now. Did he still enjoy-

The shadows to her left moved. She spun towards them, a barrier spell snapping from her hand.

Cullen raised his hands, palms facing her. "It's only me."

She blinked. "Commander? I... " What was he doing sneaking around the larder?

He moved to the door and pressed it closed. Darkness swallowed them.

"A light if you will?" His voice remained soft.

She cast fire into one of the sconces above them. His face, illuminated by the flames, was drawn. "I know you've been taking bread from the kitchens at the end of your shifts."

Her stomach knotted. Had Solana said something to him? It seemed unlike her, but then so had… other things she'd done recently. Before Celeste could form a response, he moved closer.

"I know you've been taking it to Raleigh Samson. You've been spending a lot of time with him."

Her heart thudded. "Is that a problem?"

"No." His shoulders moved as he drew a deep breath. "I need to ask you a favour."

"To do with Ser Samson?" Dread crept through her. "If it's information you want I assure you he'll speak to you without my-"

Cullen shook his head. The flickering light threw shadows over his eyes, she wasn't sure what to make of his expression. "It is to do with him, but not how you think. I'd like you to take Solana to apologise to him."

She wasn't sure she heard right. " _Apologise_?"

"She put a demon in him and then killed him, I think she owes him one, don't you?" The Commander didn't sound like himself.

"I don't understand why you need me. If she's seeking penance, she's perfectly capable of going herse-"

"She's not."

"She's not capable?"

He raked a hand through his hair. "She's not seeking penance. Maker, this is harder than I thought. I… I apologise if I'm overstepping, but I am having difficulty forgetting what transpired and, I believe you are too." His gaze met hers. "Am I wrong?"

Celeste's throat constricted. "Solana saved my life…"

"And you've saved hers. Your friendship is not in question. Forgive me, I mean only that I feel that I can trust you."

 _Well there's one for the books._ "You'd trust the maleficar?"

"Please don't make this harder than it already is."

She folded her arms. "You want me to take Solana to apologise to Samson. And then what? I'm afraid I'm not sure I understand what you're asking of me."

Cullen scratched the back of his neck. "I need to observe her."

"Observe her?" Celeste arched an eyebrow.

"I'd like you to guide her to Samson without her knowledge. You used a corridor to reach him once, cutting through the back of the gaol?" The day he'd followed them using Solana's tainted blood as a beacon.

"It's a test." Celeste was starting to understand. "You want to see how she reacts when confronted with him. Leave the apology up to her?"

The tension seemed to drain from Cullen's face. "Yes. Yes, that's precisely it."

Of all the ridiculous things. "Commander, I'm not sure I can help you with this."

"It's nothing untoward."

"Nothing untoward? I may not be an expert when it comes to relationships, but I'm relatively certain-"

"I need to know! I need to know where she stands!" His anguish seemed excessive on Samson's behalf. Celeste could only imagine that he somehow saw an equivalence between what Solana did to Samson and what she'd done to Alise. He paced, burying his head in his hands.

"Have you considered asking her?"

He laughed hollowly. "And relying on her honesty?"

"She's not a monster, Commander. We might not approve of what she did, but she did it out of love. You can't deny that. She wouldn't have let any harm come to Alise-"

"You weren't there. You didn't see what she became."

A cold shiver passed down Celeste's back. Yes, she'd heard Solana had become an abomination, that Cullen had very nearly had to kill her. "I may not have seen it for myself, but I saw her remorse in the weeks that followed. She wouldn't speak to anyone, Commander. She wouldn't have eaten at all if it hadn't been for Alise, and then only when I brought her food. Ever since you returned she's been fussing about how to please you, how to apologise with actions if not words. I even told her to ease up for fear she'd irritate you. She stands _with you_. Of that I am certain."

"And yet I never see you with her anymore."

Celeste dropped her gaze to her feet. For all her words, he was right.

"Take her with you tomorrow morning when you visit Samson. Please, I beg of you."

"And if she doesn't apologise, what then?"

"I honestly don't know."

* * *

Cullen braced himself before entering their quarters. The moons were higher than they usually were when he returned. He'd procrastinated as long as he could without making matters even worse.

With a deep breath, he opened the door.

The room was filled with the warm glow from the fireplace and the tantalising scent of dinner - his favourite stew it seemed - filled his nostrils. She was standing across the room, with her back to him. She stiffened at his entrance.

"Solana… I… I owe you an apology."

She turned slowly. Alise was cradled in her arms, asleep by the looks of it. "For which part?" Solana asked."The disingenuous lunch invitation, the kiss, or for running away?"

His heart thudded. "All of it?"

The distance between them felt like the Abyssal Rift as she nodded and turned away from him again. "Dinner is ready, you're welcome to start while I put her down."

He moved to the table. It was neatly laid with two bowls of fragrant stew, two wooden spoons and a basket of rolls. She knew he enjoyed rolls with this dish, she'd made the effort to get them.

He didn't eat until she sat down opposite him. Her hair was loose now, and bright red in the firelight. Her gaze lingered on her food. "How was the rest of your day?"

It was the same question she asked every night. She was slipping back into the routine, as if nothing unusual had happened. He should have been grateful, but he found himself frustrated. _So that was it?_ Just another thing they didn't talk about. Another thing she shoved down inside her, behind her pretty smile.

"You don't want to talk about what happened?"

She reached for a roll. "Not particularly."

He snatched her hand. Her eyes flew up to his. Fear. What was it Celeste said? _Ever since you returned she's been fussing about how to please you, how to apologise with actions if not words._ And here was his favourite meal waiting for him, when he'd been expecting confrontation.

"Solana. We should talk."

She didn't pull her hand back. It was soft and limp in his. "Say what you will, then."

"Aren't you angry with me?"

"No."

He waited, searching for something to say that would garner some reaction.

A sad semi-smile lit her lips, wavered and was gone. "How can I be angry with you for what you feel?"

The air was thin, like the moment before bloodshed. He knew so much hung on his response, and yet he couldn't bring the words forth to reassure her.

Then Alise wailed and the moment was lost. Solana tugged her hand free and went to see to their child.


	69. Broken

Sleep hovered just out of Cullen's reach for most of the night. He lost himself in thoughts, in regrets, in trying to imagine how the scheme he'd drawn Celeste into would play out. He came to full wakefulness some time before dawn.

A high-pitched sound drew his attention to Solana's side of the bed. His wife's chest rose and fell with steady breathing, but his daughter lay against her bared breast. Solana must have dropped off while nursing. Alise made another sound and wiggled, kicking out her legs.

Solana didn't stir. Staring at her face in the moonlight, Cullen could see discolouration around her eyes. She'd been crying. His throat constricted.

Alise whimpered again. Her small bright eyes found Cullen as he sat up. At least, he thought they did. It was difficult to tell just how much she could see. She made another sound, forehead wrinkling.

"Wind, is it?" Cullen asked his daughter, softly. She squeaked as if to confirm.

Being careful not to wake Solana, Cullen reached over and lifted Alise. He cringed, expecting her to start crying as he slipped his hand behind her head, but she made no sound. He realised he was holding his breath and let it out as he drew her little body to his shoulder. He'd seen Solana and Celeste burp her. It had seemed simple enough.

He patted her back, gingerly. She was so tiny, so light, so soft. He hardly dared move for fear of injuring her in some way.

Then she burped in his ear.

It was not just a burp, it was a _belch_. The kind he would have expected from a grown man who had been drinking half the evening. Alise stared at him, as startled by the sound as he was.

"Maker's Breath," he whispered, shaking with suppressed laughter. "Where did that come from?"

Alise was still staring at him. Was she going to cry? He felt as if he was holding a barrel of _gatlock_ , one false move and it would explode in his face. Instead, she reached out her tiny hand to touch his cheek.

He held his breath again. Her fingers brushed over his stubble. Would it hurt her? Surely it would be too rough against her skin? Her hand closed around his nose. Her mouth opened and he tensed for a wail, but instead her eyes lit up as she gave him a gummy grin.

Many years ago, when he was a fresh Templar, he had seen a smile that had done something similar to him. Across a crowded dining hall, lips just like these. But this… if falling for Solana had made his heart feel like it was diving from his chest, this felt like his heart was diving from the top of Skyhold's tallest tower and soaring down to the Frostback valleys below. Nothing else mattered. Anders, the Inquisition, the Circles… it all meant nothing so long as she was smiling like that.

 _Be strong for her,_ Cole had said a year before. Cullen had thought he'd meant Solana. But he knew now that he hadn't. Cole had known about Alise from when she was the tiniest seed. He had known that Cullen was weak. What else had he known? Had he known what Solana would do? Had he known how Cullen would run? Had he known that Cullen would turn to lyrium?

Alise's smile broke into a yawn and Cullen cradled her close.

Maker, what was he doing? Taking lyrium was shortening his life. How could he protect her when he was doomed to lose his mind?

How could he protect her without it? 

* * *

Morning sun gathered in narrow rectangles across the stone floor and Celeste's string of steady chatter bounced off the walls, filling the dim recesses of Skyhold with an unusual cheer. Solana would have been glad of it, had it not been so suspicious.

It wasn't like Celeste to talk this much. She was probably excited about Ren's imminent arrival, but even so, Solana's suspicion deepened the further into Skyhold they walked, the more times Celeste refused to answer where they were going.

"I don't like surprises," Solana said eventually, interrupting the other woman's babble mid-sentence.

Her eyes shot to Solana's. _Something's wrong._

Anxiety tightened Solana's stomach. "Please, tell me where we're going?"

She'd been collecting that morning's rolls in the kitchen when Celeste had begged her to come with her. Solana hadn't thought to disagree. She'd thought that Celeste wanted help carrying something from the stores or a task equally mundane. She'd been satisfied to leave the sleeping Alise with one of the other servers, thinking she'd be back in a moment.

She was on the verge of turning and heading back, when a new kind of unease prickled across her skin.

"Solana, are you well?"

She'd stopped walking, listened. What had upset her senses?

Celeste placed a warm hand on her arm. "It's not much further."

" _Wha_ t isn't much further?" Her pulse was beginning to hum.

Solana didn't wait for another non-answer. She drifted forward cautiously, magic sparking in her palms. Something familiar brushed at her senses. The desire to turn away increased, sitting heavy in her chest. But she recognised it at once for what it was.

Her ward.

If she'd been paying closer attention and not trying to listen politely to Celeste's prattle, she would have realised. But now there was no doubt about it. They were in _that_ corridor, this was _her_ ward, but it felt sour and wrong. Like that night the darkspawn had attacked the camp.

 _Alistair had almost died._

Her senses were no longer attuned to darkspawn, but they were attuned to magic. Someone had messed with her wards.

She rounded on Celeste. "Tell me what we're doing here. Now."

Celeste's face blanched. "What…"

She didn't want to hurt Celeste, but she advanced on her as if she did. She'd learned how to intimidate when needed. "Tell me."

"Solana, I don't understand."

"Why did you bring me here?"

Celeste held up her hands plaintively. "Please calm down."

"Why is it a secret?"

Celeste backed into the wall and swallowed.

"If I'm overreacting then tell me why we're here," Solana growled. "Or was it you? Did you do this? Blood magic?"

Celeste's eyes had been growing wider and wider and on the last word she physically twitched as if Solana had slapped her. "I don't understand." And from the wobble in her voice, Solana believed her.

Solana reached behind her to caress the edges of her broken wards with the tips of her fingers, not daring to move her eyes from Celeste. "So someone told you to bring me here. Who?"

Celeste stared at her as if she'd transformed into an abomination. "I… Solana, please."

"Who!"

"It was me."

Solana spun towards the familiar voice emanating from the entrance behind her, the one her wards had been protecting. Cullen stood with the door open just a crack, shadows across his face.

Her heart slammed. "Why?"

But Cullen spoke over her shoulder, to Celeste. "Forgive me, the ruse was necessary. You may proceed."

"Proceed?" There was a note of steel in Celeste's voice now that hadn't been there before. "I don't know who you think I am, Commander, but I am not a pawn to be used in some game. If you think you can-"

"Leave us!" His bellow made Solana jump.

Celeste stiffened. "You owe me for this, Commander." She turned as he'd asked, but not before adding, "I will not be toyed with."

Cullen's expression did not falter as her footsteps retreated.

"What is this?" Solana asked. "Did you have someone alter my wards? Were you hoping I wouldn't notice?"

"On the contrary." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was hoping you _would_ notice. If you had not, I would have had to assume you played a part in this."

"This?"

He stepped aside, revealing the inside of the room.

It was empty.

For a moment, Solana couldn't breathe. Her every muscle tightened, as if she'd been caught in a paralysis spell. Then, her breath escaped her in a gasp.

He walked into the room and she followed.

"You thought I stole the phylacteries?"

"I feared it, yes." He seemed to loom against the light from the arrow holes, and he peered out of one, as if checking no one was listening in to their conversation.

"How could you think that? I helped you ward the room. I helped you hide them."

"And you led Anders to them."

"This again?" Realisation hit before he could respond. "Anders. You think Anders took the phylacteries? He's been gone over a month. How long have you known about this?"

Cullen pulled something out of his surcoat pocket and held it out to her. It flashed brightly in rhythm with her heart. Her phylactery. She stared at it pulsing in his palm. "I still had this. It's how we found you _that_ day. I thought I should return it to its proper place."

She'd never had the chance to explain why she'd had it. "Cullen…"

"Don't. I don't need to hear about why you took it. That's the answer to your question. That's how long I've known."

Solana folded her arms and tried to fight off the roaring anger coursing up through her. "We've seen each other every morning and every evening since you returned. You should have told me."

He thrust the phylactery back into his pocket. "I didn't tell you because I wished to ascertain whether or not you were assisting him, and now I am convinced you knew nothing of this."

This wasn't the first test, this was only the most desperate. This was why he'd been so quiet, so withdrawn. He'd been watching her, measuring her… this was what the lunch invitation had been about, the kiss. Bitter disappointment warred with the anger rushing through her. She hadn't confessed, even to herself, how much hope that kiss had given her. But it had been a lie.

"You honestly thought I was a part of this?"

His eyes met hers. "Is it so inconceivable? You've shown sympathy with his cause, you've formed a friendship with him, and you're singularly capable-"

Each word hurt more than the last. "You're talking about selling out the mages! How could you think me capable of that?"

"Ask me two months ago and I may well have struggled to."

She stared at him, searching for words. Her tongue felt numb. "But because of how I saved our daughter, you believe I'm capable of anything?"

"This isn't about saving her, Solana!"

"No, it's about the fact that you don't trust me."

"How could I? Maker's Breath. You came into the Fade, you saw what… what they did to me. You held me in your arms. We made love. And then you left me. You took our innocent baby daughter from the safety of my family and you put a demon in her. You became an abomination. I very nearly had to kill you with my own hands. Do you have any idea what that was like?"

"You weren't supposed to be there! It was only meant to be Morrigan and-"

"How does that make it _better_?"

"I'm sorry! I knew what the cure was. She could be normal, healthy. I knew that if I told you, you'd feel obligated to stop me. That or, if something went wrong, you'd never forgive yourself. I didn't want you to be culpable-"

"No. Don't act like you did this for me. Don't act like you even so much as _considered_ me. What you did… it's the exact same thing you did to Alistair. _You_ made a choice that should have been _ours_."

Each of his words were like the meteors in Hawke's favourite spell, crashing into her. Her chest became too tight to draw in air. All she managed was a breathless, "What?"

His eyes went wide, but he didn't take back what he'd said. Then his features hardened once more. "Is it any wonder I believed you might do the same to the mages?"

There was no retort, nothing she could say, and nothing she could do. The desire to flee became overwhelming. The room was airless. She needed to escape.

She rushed past him, out into the corridor. He called after her, but she didn't slow.

 _Alistair, running to stab the archdemon…_

 _Morrigan's words "I offer a way out, a way out for all Grey Wardens, that there need be no sacrifice."_

Cullen clattered after her. She didn't even know where she was going until she'd reached the stairs up to their quarters. The urge to get away was more than just a drive to leave a single argument. She flew through the door, not even pausing as she came to the dresser.

Cullen burst through after her. "Solana, what are you doing?"

She pulled her clothing out of her drawer, piled it onto the bed. She'd be able to carry everything in the bedspread. "This isn't going to work, Cullen. I think we both know that." Her voice shook.

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her around to face him. "Stop this."

"We were fooling ourselves." Her vision blurred and she brushed the tears away, annoyed at her own weakness.

"You're being irrational."

She tugged her wrist free. "Do you even want me here?" He stared at her. _Confirmation._ She turned back to her packing, the desperation leaving in a rush of pain and disappointment. "I'm tired. I'm tired of trying to force this to work when it doesn't. You are right. I'm not a good wife and no amount of meals or polite conversation is going to change that."

"I didn't say…" He swallowed. "Where will you go?" It sounded like he had something stuck in his throat.

"We'll stay in the servants' quarters." _We._ It should have been clear that she'd be taking Alise with her, but he jerked at the word regardless. "There's space now," she continued as if she hadn't noticed. "Skyhold has emptied out significantly since the war."

"This is ridiculous. You should stay here. I'll go to my office. I fixed this room for you. It's yours."

A note drifted out of the dresser to the floor as she removed the last of her items. Cullen bent to pick it up, but she knew it held nothing of significance. It was the letter she'd been unable to send him, about Alise's Blight.

"Exactly," she said, in response to his words. " _You_ fixed this room. I can't stay here."

It was a small dagger thrust between his ribs. She saw it hit home. He swallowed again, nodded, and she instantly regretted it but it was too late to undo the hurt.

"You're of course welcome to see Alise whenever you wish," she said, turning from him to gather up her belongings.

"Thank you," he said softly.

He sank onto the bed, head bowed.

 _What are you doing, Solana? You're hurting him again._ "This will be better, in the long run," she said. "I… want you to be happy."

"Of course you do," he muttered.

With nothing else left to say, she went to fetch Alise.

* * *

So that was marriage.

Cullen stared at his lap, listening to his own heartbeat in the empty room.

Vows meant to last a lifetime had lasted less than a year. He had failed at this endeavour just as he had failed at so much else.

It should feel like a victory, knowing she wasn't involved in whatever Anders had done, and yet it felt like death. He tried to think of a single worse way he could have handled it and came up empty.

In his hand, a note she had never sent.

 _Dearest Cullen,_

 _Please forgive me. My worst nightmare has come to pass. I will do everything in my power to remedy this. I promise._


	70. Heart remiss

_A/N_

 _I promise there is fluff coming soon to counter all this angst!_

 _Pretty major spoilers for DA2 in this one._

* * *

"A sex dungeon," Samson said.

"A what?" Celeste stifled a giggle.

"It's a room where they… experiment…" His eyes locked with hers. He was calling her bluff, willing her to make him continue the explanation. When she raised her eyebrows, a crafty smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "With erotic pleasure and pain… bondage, discipline, dominance... submission."

"No, stop." She held up a hand to halt him. She didn't want to picture Cullen and Solana in any of the activities he was suggesting.

Samson leaned close the the bars, his face flushed with humour and his eyes sparkling. "What, you can't see it?"

"I _can_ see it. That's the problem." Celeste closed her eyes and scrunched up her face in mock disgust. "Gives a whole new meaning to 'Commander'."

Samson chuckled, a deep and surprisingly melodic sound. "Oh, I highly doubt he'd be the one in command."

It took Celeste a beat to understand what he was implying and then laughter bubbled up from her chest and she was overcome.

"Oh Maker, I hope you're wrong," she said when she found her breath again.

"Do you have a better idea?"

She'd been so angry with Cullen when she'd arrived, that she'd told Samson everything he'd done. He'd listened without saying anything, and only when she'd finished speaking had he asked what she thought they might have been hiding in that warded room.

"If I knew, do you believe I'd tell you?" she'd asked, without thinking.

She'd regretted it the moment the she said it. His face had fallen, but he'd quickly forced a smile. "Well, there goes that cunning plan."

She'd apologised as she'd knelt beside the bars and handed him his bread. Cool now, not warm like usual. But he didn't even seem to notice as he accepted it, eyes downcast.

"Lyrium," she'd said, because she'd needed to say something and that had seemed the most likely guess.

He'd smirked. "Rutherford has his own private stash? I can believe it."

"He doesn't take it of course," she'd added as she tore off a piece of bread for herself. "He just likes to glare at it. It's how he practises that glower."

That had brought a real smile to his face. And then they'd been off, each guess more ridiculous than the one preceding it.

Now she realised that she, too, had grown close to the bars. Close to him. If it weren't for the metal between them, they may well have been touching.

"I was going to suggest nugs," she said. Her face was growing hot. Would he think it was because he'd embarrassed her by talking about sex? She concentrated on her hands.

"Nugs?" he prompted.

"A room of nugs that the commander could go and cuddle whenever his duties became overwhelming." When he didn't react, she added, "Seems tame now."

"Depends what he's doing with those nugs."

Again laughter tore through her, even though she was shocked at herself. And he joined her. When he laughed he seemed to have an inner glow. He became a younger man, one unjaded by the trials of the past years. One who had become a templar.

That was an unwelcome thought.

"Is something the matter?" Samson asked.

"No, why?" She pushed the idea of templars from her mind.

"You're staring at me." He ran a hand through his hair. The hair he'd lost while on red lyrium was starting to grow back and it occurred to her that he might have misinterpreted her gaze.

"Sorry, I didn't realise. I… my thoughts drifted."

"I see." He shifted. "I'm going to assume it wasn't in the direction of creative things to do with nugs…"

The quip might have landed, were it not for the anxiety still in his eyes. Brown eyes now, not a trace of red. And her breath was trapped in her chest as she stared at them.

 _I know you've been taking it to Raleigh Samson. You've been spending a lot of time with him._

Was it obvious to everyone except her? Her cheeks were heating again and she scrambled to stand. "I… I'd better go see to… duties."

"Oh," Samson said, and she could hear the disappointment in his voice. "Yeah, of course."

"Thank you… I… sorry."

She snatched up her basket and flew from the gaol. Though as soon as she was out in the corridor, she pressed her back to the cool wall and took several deep breaths. There was a warmth in her stomach, a tingling down her arms right to her hands. Her heart felt large and full and her one desire was to go back into that room and… and what? She pressed her hands to her cheeks, willing them to cool.

* * *

Cabot eyed Solana for a long moment, absently drying the mug in his hand.

"A glass of water please," she repeated. With a shrug, he decided she was serious and went to fetch a pitcher.

Solana slid into her old chair and leaned down on the bar. Her heart was still hammering, her pulse racing. In truth what she needed was a drink, but she didn't dare while she was still nursing.

"I just left Cullen," she said softly.

Hawke, who was sitting on the other stool, hadn't so much as greeted her. At her words, he turned his head to look at her.

He'd grown a thick black beard and his eyes were bleary. She knew he'd taken to coming here after Anders had left, but she hadn't tried to approach him.

"Wow… that is a surprise," he said. "I would have expected him to be the one to leave you."

She sucked in air. His response shouldn't have cut the way it did. She knew how he'd come to feel about her. Yet, he had once called her family. He was the only family she had now besides Alise.

Cabot set down a mug of water, and Solana reached for it with a trembling hand.

"Sorry," Hawke mumbled.

"You're not wrong." She drank deeply, the cold liquid sending jolts of pain up into her head, a blissful distraction if only for a few minutes.

"So, what did he do?" Hawke stared into his ale.

"What?"

"What did the Commander do? There must be a reason. I'm assuming it's not blood magic and demons, because last thing I checked those weren't exactly a deal breaker for you."

Solana took another swig of her water. "Nothing. He didn't do anything. He doesn't love me anymore, and it just took me two weeks of foolish hoping to realise he probably never will."

Hawke started laughing and shook his head.

"You going to tell me why that's funny?"

"Nope." He lifted his mug and took a long drink, then slammed it on the table and waved to Cabot for another. "So, where's the baby? Don't tell me you left her too."

"No! Of course not. She's in the servant's quarters. There's a woman who works in the kitchens, has children of her own… we're rooming with her now. She offered to babysit. I… Hawke?"

He was still shaking his head, eyes closed. "What are you doing here, Solana?"

"I came here for a drink."

"Water."

"Well I can't exactly have alcohol."

"You could have gone anywhere else." His words were slightly slurred. "Yet you come here, and sit down next to me. What do you want from me? Comfort?"

Another cold slap. She squared her shoulders. "I didn't come here to see you."

"Then go sit somewhere else."

She bit into her bottom lip. She waited for him to change his mind, apologise again. But he didn't. So, she nodded and slipped from her stool. "Alright. Sorry."

She was aware of eyes following her as she took her mug upstairs, and she heard snippets of gossip. She hadn't exactly been discreet in her dash up to her quarters. Most of Skyhold probably already knew what had happened between her and Cullen.

Cole was sitting on the upper floor of the tavern, the only quiet part. The rest of the patrons had given him a wide berth. His legs were crossed and he was rocking back and forth.

"Fancy some company?" she asked.

He glanced up at her, then back at his feet. "No, but you do."

She hesitated.

"You can sit," Cole said.

"Thank you."

She settled on the top step and half dreaded what Cole would say next. But he never got the chance.

Hawke came stumbling up the stairs. He skipped one, tripped, caught himself, splashed half his mug of ale across the stairs then stood swaying a few feet from her. "No, Solana, wait. Look, I didn't mean that."

"Yes he did," Cole provided.

Hawke's gaze shot to Cole, then back to Solana. "Did I ever tell you about the war I started by accident?" His slur was even more pronounced on the last word.

Solana stood again. "I think everyone knows about what happened with the Chantry."

He cut the air with the flat of his hand. "No, not _that_ war. The one with the Qunari."

"Oh, _that_ war," Solana said. "You mentioned the Arishok."

Hawke climbed up the last few stairs, gripping the banister for support. "Right. So. I didn't mean to start a war. I wanted to do the right thing. I was just doing what I thought was best. But it wasn't best. A lot of people got hurt. Some died. They called me the Champion for it, but that's because they didn't know." He gestured with his ale again, splashing more along the top landing. "Thing is. My point. My point... " His face clouded.

"You wanted to tell her about consequences," Cole reminded him in a voice that sent a chill rushing up Solana's spine.

"Right, yes. My point. Consequences." He jabbed a finger at her. "What you did. It could have consequences. Doesn't matter your intentions. We all know your intentions. Save your kid. Good. Yeah, we love your baby too. But how… messing with that stuff. Just playing around with it as if you're…" He sat heavily on the top step beside where Solana stood. "I've known people who've thought that their intentions warranted the use of such... It doesn't end well. It never ends well."

"He means his mother," Cole said.

Hawke's head snapped up, brow furrowed. "Don't."

"It hurts too much to talk about, even now." Cole's interest must have been piqued by whatever Hawke was thinking, because he drifted towards them, staring at Hawke in that disconcerting way he had. "You found the Amell shield in a chest."

"Maker, Cole." Hawke buried his head in his hands.

"It shouldn't have been there. It wasn't her place."

"What's he talking about?" Solana asked.

"Nothing." Hawke ran his hands through his hair. "He's not talking about anything."

"Face just like hers," Cole said. "You knew it when you saw the picture." Then, to Solana, "The picture that he gave to you."

"Yes." His teeth were gritted. "And I didn't tell her for a reason. Can you leave it alone? That's not what I came up here to say."

"Yes it is," Cole argued. He turned to Solana. "He came up here because he doesn't want you to go dark like your father."

"My father?" Solana's heart kicked against her chest. "What does my father have to do with anything?"

"A maleficar killed my mother," Hawke said on a sigh. "He killed her for her face. He had reconstructed the woman he loved from pieces of bodies belonging to other women."

"Maker!"

"I… I tried to track him down and failed. I gave up. And then he got her. By the time I found his lair, he'd completed his work. She was reanimated, a shambling monster. I killed him and she died in my arms. Isabella found a shield tucked away in a chest at the foot of his bed. It bore my family crest."

Solana's stomach lurched. Her knees were too weak to hold her. She sank to the ground beside him. "You think this man… this man was my _father_?"

"Revka and my mother were virtually identical. You can see it in that etching. As I told you, she and her family disappeared. I know nothing for certain."

Ice flushed through Solana, she wanted to be sick. The trembles that had followed her from her quarters overwhelmed her again. She started shaking so hard she had to wrap her arms around herself.

"So you can see why I was somewhat adverse to the idea of you playing around with blood magic and demons. But even if I didn't suspect what I did… Solana, how could you? You're the Hero of blighted Ferelden. You are possibly one of the most powerful mages in Thedas. We believed in you. They all did. You didn't just betray Cullen that day. You betrayed all of us."

"I want to make it right," she managed, although her voice was so small she wasn't sure he heard it until he answered.

"I'm not sure you can."

* * *

Cullen rapped softly on the door, even though Josephine's office was always open when she wasn't meeting with visiting nobles.

She looked up from her desk and smiled at him. "Commander, did we have a meeting scheduled?"

He moved into the room, relying on the lyrium to keep him steady. "No. I wanted to ask a favour."

"Oh?" Her eyebrows shot up. He seldom spoke to her at all, and had never asked anything of her.

"It's…" He tried to maintain eye contact but failed, his gaze darting to the fireplace, then to her desk. "I wished to know if any of the guest suites are currently available?"

Josephine stood. "Oh, is your family coming to visit us again?"

Cullen cleared it. "No. It's for Solana."

He dared not look at Josephine's face. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't think he could. He pressed on. "I offered to move to my office, of course, but she refused. She's in the servant's quarters at the moment. I thought one of the guest suites would be preferable. She can't very well keep the servants up with a crying baby and-"

"And you want her to be comfortable." She'd closed the distance between them.

"Yes," he said. His voice sounded strangled.

"It will not be a problem, Commander. We've had few visitors since the war ended."

His breath came out in a rush. "Thank you."

When he risked a glance at her face, he wished he hadn't. Her dark eyes were shining with pity. How much did the ambassador know of what had happened through the eluvian? Probably everything, thanks to Leliana. At the very least she knew that something had caused him to flee Skyhold, leaving his wife and child behind.

"Additionally…" Now the difficult part. He hesitated, trying to think of an alternative. Then cursed himself for being silly. "I wondered if you could perhaps offer the room to her. I… if she knows I asked you about it…"

"Consider it done, Commander."

"Thank you. I… I'll leave you to your work."

Josephine inclined her head and drifted to her desk as he made for the door. As he reached it, she called, "One more thing, Commander."

He turned back to her. She'd picked up a report and was paging through it. "We haven't recruited any more templars, have we?"

"No, not that I'm aware."

"I only ask because our lyrium supplies seem to be running lower than I'd anticipated."

His stomach dropped. She didn't look up from her report and for that he was grateful. She wouldn't have seen the colour drain from his face.

"Perhaps you miscalculated?" Surely his extra dose per day didn't make that much of a difference?

She gave a hollow laugh. "Please do not let the Chantry hear you say such things. Our use of lyrium is supposed to be strictly monitored." She frowned at her page. "But perhaps you are correct. I will have to be more vigilant."

"Yes," he croaked. "I mean…" The hairs on the back of his neck rose, as they loved doing when he felt nervous. He fought the urge to rub them. "I will keep a closer watch too."

Now her eyes did rest on him and he was almost certain she knew. His heart pounded rapidly as she looked at him.

"You should get some rest, Commander." Pity again. "Do not concern yourself with this matter for now. I will speak to Solana."

It seemed she'd interpreted his nervousness as relating to his wife. He nodded and turned from her before she decided otherwise.

* * *

The light streaming into Cullen's office was crimson by the time he entered, shoulders aching from a long afternoon of training. He'd thought to exhaust himself so that perhaps he could sleep despite Solana's absence.

With the Inquisitor in the Frostback Basin, there wasn't all that much for him to do, so he'd decided to dedicate the evening to going through Leliana's scout reports.

He was not expecting to find someone in his office.

His heart leapt when the evening sun gave the impression of a short redhead. _Solana, come to make up?_ But no, it was just a trick of the light. It was Celeste. She turned when she heard him enter.

"I do not wish to discuss it," he said, setting his sword on his desk. "Please, can this wait until tomorrow?"

"You used me."

 _Evidently not._ "And I apologised. It was necessary."

"Why? Why was it necessary?"

"How long have you been waiting here?"

"What's in that room?"

"Nothing. It's empty." He strode around his desk, rolling his neck, which gave a satisfying click. His armour was too heavy on his shoulders, fatigue was settling into his muscles. He'd possibly pushed himself too hard out there.

"Alright." Celeste folded her arms. "What _was_ in there?"

He eyed her wearily, weighing up the possible consequences of telling her the truth. _Maleficar._ It had better be a half truth. "Something valuable. It has been stolen."

"And you thought Solana stole it?"

"I thought she might have. Few people knew about it."

"She placed the wards," Celeste said, as understanding dawned. "You wanted to test whether she was surprised about them being broken. You needed me to lead her past the room."

Cullen sank into his chair. "Yes. Is there a point to this?"

Celeste glared down at him. The red light sliced across her profile, making her look far more intimidating than someone with her delicate features should have. But Cullen felt no fear. He felt numb.

"You owe me," she said. "You lied to me and you used me."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "What do you want, Celeste? What can I possibly give you?"

"Samson."

Her expression faltered, the intimidating facade dropped and she shifted so that she was no longer folding her arms and glaring down at him, but rather hugging herself and looking at him plaintively from beneath her lashes. In this light it was impossible to tell if she was blushing, but he wouldn't have been surprised.

"Of course. I'll have him bound and delivered to your quarters at once. Is that all?"

"No- that's not-" She was most certainly blushing now, he could hear it in her voice. She drew a breath, then said in a steadier tone, "That's not what I meant. I want you to give him a chance. He's wasted down in those cells. He could be useful."

"Celeste, you seem to forget that a little over two months ago he was trying to destroy the world."

"I haven't forgotten."

"He was using people to grow lyrium, were you aware of that? Sewing it in them like seeds in pasture."

She swallowed. "He was corrupted."

"I'd say."

"He's different now. He wants to be good. Our experiments, the ones you disapproved of? He engaged in them _willingly_. He wanted to help us find a cure for the Blight, even if it cost his life."

Cullen couldn't help but laugh. She looked stricken. "He's _manipulating_ you. He's found a way to gain your sympathy and now he has you doing his bidding."

"No, that's not true."

"What do you think he intends to do if I grant him his freedom, hmm? Play good little soldier?" Cullen shook his head. "He'll be on the first ship back to Tevinter where he'll no doubt rally what's left of Corypheus's sympathisers and start our war anew."

"He wouldn't do that. He doesn't believe in Corypheus. He never did. He wanted to help the… the Templars."

"You're in love with him."

She gaped at him.

"It's written plainly on your face."

Her hands flew up to her cheeks and he found it amusing, despite everything, how surprised she seemed.

But she recovered quickly. "He's a wasted resource. His sentence was to serve the Inquisition. You're his handler, but you haven't seen him in weeks, have you? The interrogators are done with him, Dagna's collected what she can. He's rotting away in that cell for no reason-"

"He's rotting in that cell because he was Corypheus's first lieutenant!"

"But he isn't anymore. He's intelligent, T-Templar-trained. You could put him to better use than this. I'm not suggesting you set him free and give him the run of Skyhold. Set a watch on him, if you must, but he's wasted in there. My feelings - if I did have feelings which I most certainly don't - would be irrelevant. Solana gave me a second chance-"

"You killed a single man in what amounts to self defence."

"-just speak to him, Commander. Please."

He remembered Celeste as he'd first met her, a wreck terrified of her own power, ready to die. Solana had changed that. Here she stood, as fiery as his wife, strong and confident as any enchanter.

Wife… could he even still use that term? He looked down at the desk. "I will speak to him. I cannot promise I will release him. But I will speak to him. Although, I have a favour to ask you in return."

"You mean besides forgetting how you used me?"

He met her gaze. Her smirk melted away.

"Keep an eye on Solana for me?"

"I won't spy on her."

"That's not what I mean." Was it possible she didn't know yet? He looked at his hands, realising he was still wearing her ring. The sight of it _hurt._ He gritted his teeth. "Solana and I are no longer... together. But I would see her happy, despite everything. I know most people at Skyhold are… well, you're the only one she has now. I don't want her to be alone."

Why was every word so painful? He was aware of Celeste staring at him.

"You left her?"

"She left me."

* * *

 _A/N: So the whole Revka Amell thing is a personal theory of mine. It's based on finding the Amell shield in the chest in the secret lair and on all the comments about Hawke's mum having the same face. The info on Warden Amell's father is very sketchy, even in the World of Thedas books. IMO what is there could easily be made up to try hide the fact that the father was a mage, and the father being a mage would explain all Revka's mage children. At this stage they've all been caught and thrown into different circles. The father ended up in Starkhaven. He knew Orsino though from back in Kirkwall. Who knows, maybe Leandra met Hawke through him? But as I said, just a theory :)_


	71. History

_A/N: Sorry, it's a bit of a long one!_

 _There's a companion drabble (100-word story) to this flashback bit at [archive of our own . org ]_ /works/12448347

* * *

 _ELEVEN YEARS AGO_

The water was so cold it numbed Solana's fingers, but the break in rain meant a rare chance to do washing. So, she ignored her discomfort, scrubbing and wringing and trying not to think about what manner of dirt was spreading out from her old Circle robes, tainting the calm water in shades of brown and red.

"Solana?" Alistair had been silent since they'd settled on the bank, and she'd assumed him as absorbed in his work as she, but when she looked up she found him staring at the block of soap in his hands.

"What's the matter?"

He'd been quiet since Kinloch, but she'd thought nothing of it. The experience in the Fade had left them all unsettled.

He swallowed. "That templar..."

Cullen. He must have meant Cullen. Her heart clenched.

"That templar and you… did you have a... sorry, I shouldn't ask."

"Did we have a what?"

His amber eyes met hers again, his cheeks coloured. "Well, you know..."

"And you know that sort of thing isn't permitted. You trained as a Templar."

"Yes, sorry."

She hadn't meant to snap. Her chest still ached with the memory. Cullen in the cage, curled up and praying. Cullen in the entrance hall, hating her.

Alistair studied her. "I didn't mean to pry. It's just… the way you ran to him. I thought perhaps he was a friend."

They'd rounded the corner and she'd seen Cullen there, gaunt and muttering like a madman. A lone survivor. All thoughts of caution had left her with her breath. She'd flown to his side, fallen on her knees before his magical prison.

And he had admitted, from the very edge of sanity, his feelings for her. Finally. But to hear it like that... Even now bitter bile rose in her throat at the thought of it.

 _A mage of all things._

Solana scrubbed the shirt, channeling the ache into something productive. "Templars don't have mage friends," she reminded Alistair.

"No, I suppose not."

She jerked when he touched her arm. His hands were as warm as hers were cold. He was always warm, as if blazing with inner flame.

"You can tell me, you know? It's not like I'm going to report you." A hesitant smile. "We'll talk really quietly so Wynne doesn't hear."

Solana found herself return the smile. "Was it really that obvious?"

"It was obvious that you cared about him, yes. I… eh… I'm being nosy. I know I am. You're allowed to say."

"You're being nosy," she obliged, but she kept the smile in place. "And I appreciate that you care."

"You do?"

"You're a good friend."

He scratched behind his ear. "Ah, friend, yes."

And as a good friend, she supposed she owed him the truth. He'd told her his secrets, hadn't he?

She massaged her temples, trying to find the words. "There was never anything between Cullen and me. But… if circumstances had been different, I would have liked there to have been."

There, the words were out. She'd said them aloud for the first time ever. Heat crept up from her belly. She couldn't meet Alistair's eyes.

"It was foolish. We hardly knew each other, after all. We weren't allowed to _socialise_. He watched me and I… watched him. He wasn't like what you saw. He was kind and gentle and… we'd share looks, looks that said what we'd never be able to say… that sounds pathetic, doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't." Alistair's voice was soft.

His hand was still on her arm. It gave her the courage to continue. "When Gregor first said that his Templars were locked in with the abominations, Cullen was all I could think of. Every time we passed a…." she pressed her eyes closed as she forced the word out, " _body_ , I had to check that it wasn't him."

"You didn't say anything."

"What was there to say? We were surrounded by so much horror. There were so many faces I should have been checking for, so many faces that I should have dreaded seeing as much as his. But when we uncovered their bodies, I was _relieved._ And I hated... hated myself. How could I be relieved to see my fellow mages like that? People I'd grown up with, people I'd shared _everything_ with?"

"You loved him." It wasn't a question. Alistair squeezed her arm and now his gaze was steady. He'd found the answer to what he'd really been asking.

"I…" She couldn't quite admit it. "It doesn't matter. He hates me. And I'm a Grey Warden. And we have a duty."

"Yes, that saving the world thing," Alistair said.

"Someone's got to."

That night she didn't dream of darkspawn, she dreamt of Cullen in the centre of a circle of fire, screaming her name.

* * *

 _PRESENT DAY_

A loose shingle came free beneath Celeste's right boot and skittered down, thwacking against the Herald's Rest's sign on its journey down to the courtyard.

"When Cole said I'd find you up here, I thought he was joking," she said. She dug her nails into the roof, her stomach twisting. She hadn't thought herself afraid of heights before, but she'd never had the opportunity to test the theory.

Solana was nothing but a hunched shadow against the darkening sky. Celeste made out the shape of a bottle in her hand. Solana raised it to her lips, but said nothing.

Celeste swallowed her fear and shimmied further up. "Of course, Cole doesn't joke."

Solana didn't respond. Lightning cut across the night, far off enough that it took a moment to hear the accompanying thunder, but close enough that it lit Solana's features. She was staring straight ahead.

"I thought I'd find you in the Grove," Celeste said, finally reaching Solana.

"There's a storm coming," Solana's voice was flat, heavy.

"Well this is certainly the place to be if getting hit by lightning is your aim."

"It's not." Her focus stayed on the bottle in her hand.

"Well I suppose the top of the mage tower would be slightly more effective," Celeste agreed.

"No. I'm not…" Solana drew a deep breath, her entire form shifting. "Getting hit by lightning is not my aim. And I'm not planning to throw myself dramatically from the top of the tavern either, before you ask."

"I wasn't going to ask. I was going to ask why you're drinking. Where's Alise?"

Now Solana looked at her, another flash of lightning highlighting an amused quirk of her mouth. She passed the bottle to Celeste. Celeste sniffed it. It smelled like lavender. Intrigued, she checked the label.

"Lavender and rosehip cordial."

"Apparently it's popular in Orlais."

Celeste took a swig and immediately regretted it. The overpowering sweetness of honey surged down her throat, leaving her mouth feeling like she'd taken a bite out of a bouquet. She thrust it back into Solana's hand. "What in the Void is wrong with Orlesians?"

Solana chuckled. "You sound like Cullen."

His name hung in the air. Rain began to patter down around them, in the large globules so common at this time of year. Solana sighed, her breath shaking on the exhale.

"Solana… you know that I had no idea what he was planning today?" Celeste asked softly.

"I know."

"He told me to take you to Samson. I thought the request was odd, but I thought maybe he honestly wanted to see if you regretted… things."

"Celeste, I know. I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry for how I acted. Everything's been so…" Her head fell forward and her shoulders trembled. She was crying.

Celeste reached for her shoulder, not sure what else to do. For a while they stayed that way. Solana crying, Celeste's hand on her shoulder. The rain fell more heavily, soaking through Celeste's clothing, but she dared not move.

"My father killed Hawke's mother," Solana said at length, in voice so small that Celeste could hardly hear it over the sound of the pattering rain.

She thought she must have misheard, it made no sense in the context of everything else. Solana sniffed and brushed aside some of the hair that fell in a wet curtain around her face. "My father was a murderer, a serial killer. He hunted women for their body parts."

Celeste shifted closer. "Where's this coming from?"

"Hawke." She sniffed again. "He thinks I'm the same."

Horror, anger and revulsion warred for dominance in Celeste's stomach. _Why would he say such a thing? No matter how angry he was._ "You're not."

"What if I am? What if I'm just one bad spell, one bad decision away from that darkness? The ritual I did with Morrigan…" She hiccoughed.

"You're _not_ ," Celeste insisted.

"I just keep hurting people."

"Not intentionally!" Celeste wrapped both arms around Solana and pulled her close, holding her as she sobbed. "Solana, you've saved more people than you've hurt. You saved Alise. You saved _me_. You saved-"

"-Ferelden, I know."

"And all those people in your stories."

Solana sobbed harder, her whole body shaking. "There's so much blood on my hands. They never talk about the blood."

"The likes of Loghain Mac Tir you mean?"

"And Jowan."

Jowan? Celeste had known him at the Circle, although not very well. He'd been quite a few years older than her, so she'd only really seen him at a few clandestine meetings. But she knew the story of how he'd tried to escape with the Chantry sister, and used blood magic to do so. Solana had betrayed him to the Templars, the stories said. Perhaps that's what she meant.

She brushed the wet hair from Solana's eyes. "You're not a murderer. You're a soldier. I know you, Solana. You'd never let a good person die if you could save them. And forget about what Hawke said. It doesn't matter who your father is. Ren's father… well you know what he was. But my Ren? He's the sweetest, kindest boy you could imagine. You'll see when you meet him. Now, let's get you home and dry, alright?"

Solana swallowed. "I don't live-"

"-I know."

Solana stiffened in Celeste's arms. "You've spoken to him?"

Celeste weighed up lying, but decided against it. "Yes."

"How… how was he?"

"He seemed... tired. He was concerned about you."

Solana laughed darkly. "Of course he was. He's Cullen. If you… if you see him again, can you tell him that it's not because of what he said?"

"You should tell him yourself."

"If I talk to him, we'll just end up fighting. Or dancing around each other."

They managed, somehow, to get down from the tavern roof without slipping on the wet tiles. By the time they reached the servants' quarters, Solana was trembling violently and Celeste's own clothing was heavy enough to weigh her down.

"I'll be across the hall," Celeste said, depositing Solana at the door to her new quarters.

But Solana stared at her with big green eyes, looking lost and broken. Celeste leaned past her and opened the door.

The room beyond was blissfully warm. Natalia had lit a fire and closed the windows. She was sitting on one of the beds, holding Alise at her shoulder.

Celeste knew Natalia. She was the oldest of the scullery maids, finding work with the Inquisition after her husband passed and her children had been married off. She'd often told Celeste that she liked the excitement of being in the "thick of things", despite how her knees protested at the more menial tasks assigned to her.

Her eyes crinkled when she smiled in greeting. "Ah! You're back. She's beginning to get fidgety."

Solana crossed the room and scooped Alise into her arms. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be gone so long."

"You're wet through," Natalia rose and began fussing over Solana, who protested weakly.

Celeste backed towards the door, aiming to make a subtle exit. She narrowly avoided backing straight into Josephine Montilyet, a sharp intake of breath her only warning as the woman entered the room.

"Forgive the intrusion, my lady. May I have a word?"

Celeste blinked at her. Solana and Natalia both froze. Alise gave a little whimper, pawing at Solana's chest for nourishment.

"Who are you speaking to?" Solana asked. She seemed genuinely confused.

Josephine laughed softly. "I apologise, I'm not certain how to address you considering…"

Solana quirked an eyebrow, "Don't tell me you would have gone with Mrs Rutherford?"

The ambassador blushed. "Solana, then. May I have a private word?"

"Can it wait until morning? I need to feed her."

"Please, it will only take a moment."

To Celeste's surprise, Solana looked to her. She shrugged.

Alise gave another impatient wail.

"Fine," Solana said, "but I'm feeding her in your office."

Celeste waited with Natalia, too anxious to leave. She knew Solana too well. Her easy humour was a front. She was worried that Josephine would lecture her, tell her how making such a display of leaving Cullen would somehow affect the Inquisition's reputation. How would Solana react to that, after everything else that had happened that day?

But it turned out she needn't have worried. Solana returned a few minutes later with a small amused smile on her face.

"Apparently it will not do to have the Hero of Ferelden living like a servant," she told Celeste, quietly enough so that Natalia wouldn't hear. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Her hair had dried into frizzy waves that bounced with the motion.

"Where does she want you to go?"

"She's prepared a guest suite for me. Along with a cradle for Alise." Solana sighed, gaze dropping to her daughter, bundled in her arms and chewing on her fist. "I would refuse, but she's not a particularly good sleeper. I don't want to keep everyone up."

The current room slept four, the other two women must have been on dinner duty. Plus, the room didn't have much in the way of facilities for a baby. Each bed had a trunk at the foot for personal items, and there was a single vanity against the one wall with a mirror. It was reminiscent of the apprentice quarters at the Circle, sans bunk beds. Celeste knew Solana was used to much less, but now she had Alise, sleeping in a tent or up in a hay loft wasn't really an option.

"Where are your things?" Celeste asked. "I'll help you carry them up."

* * *

 _Smoke drifted across the floor of the tavern, curling around Celeste's feet._

 _"Enchanters, the time has come to be alive…" Maryden's sweet voice carried over the noise._

 _The tavern was busy and hot. People crowded together, trading jokes and stories, so close that Celeste could hardly move through them. Celeste knew she was looking for someone, but not who. Above her, the green sky of the Fade glimmered. It didn't seem out of place._

 _"Celeste!" A familiar voice called. In her heart, she knew it to be Solana's. "Celeste! Come join me!"_

 _Celeste stood on her toes, trying to see the tables along the edge of the room, but thick fog obscured them. She shouldered her way between two large men._

 _"What we plea will be faithful end decree…" Maryden sang._

 _"Celeste, over here!"_

 _A shadow moved in the smoke, darkness against the bright of the tavern. There were no features, only a blurred silhouette._

 _"Come join me," the shadow said._

 _"Enchanters! A time has come for battle lines..." Maryden sang._

 _Both voices were twisted together and no longer sweet. Celeste paused._

 _"You're powerful, Celeste, you know it to be true," the shadow said. It no longer had Solana's voice. It no longer really had a voice at all. It was distorted, like a whisper._

 _"Go away, demon," Celeste said the practised words._

 _"I am no demon," the shadow said. "I do not wish to take your power from you, I want you to use it, for good."_

 _Celeste shook her head. All other sound in the room had faded away. It was still filled with people, but they moved in silence._

 _"The mages need you, Celeste," the shadow whispered. "Your fellow mages need you. I have seen your power. More power than the Hero of Ferelden. You know it to be true."_

 _"We will cut these knotted ties, and some may live and some may die…" Maryden sang._

 _"Why do you waste your powers as a kitchen girl?" the shadow asked._

 _Celeste gritted her teeth and tried to force herself to wake up. "I will not listen to you, demon."_

 _"Enchanter, come to me. Enchanter, come to me…" Maryden's voice seemed to come from the shadow._

 _"I'm not an enchanter!" Celeste shouted._

 _The shadow started drifting towards her. It didn't become clearer as it neared. Its edges remained fuzzy, as if it was made from smoke. "According to whom? The Circle?"_

 _She backed away, stumbling over Maryden's empty stool. "Leave me alone!"_

 _"Do not be afraid, Celeste. I mean you no harm."_

 _Celeste reached inside her, reached for her power. "I said, leave me alone!" She struck outwards. Energy speared from her fingertips, tearing through the tavern and shredding the tables, the walls, the ghostly people._

 _Her final impression before she jerked awake was of the shadow slowly retreating._

* * *

Samson wasn't sure what woke him. There was no particular sound, but something was out of place. Something in the air around his cell. Something…

He opened his eyes to find Commander Cullen Rutherford standing over him. His features were shrouded in darkness.

A lump formed in Samson's throat, but he managed to swallow it down, to lift his head with dignity he did not feel. "Rutherford, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

He was glad his voice sounded steadier than he felt. Cullen hadn't visited him once during his internment, aside from the interrogations he'd overseen. Samson had known this day was coming, had been dreading it. A confrontation, at last.

His heart clenched as Cullen moved towards the opening where the first rays of light were seeping in. Unease crawled up his spine.

If today was to be the day of his reckoning, did Cullen have to draw it out?

"Why did you join Corypheus?" he asked, hands behind his back like one of those Chantry tutors they'd had at the monastery.

"I told your interrogators everything I know already, I swear it." _Andraste's tits,_ did he have to sound so pathetic?

Cullen turned. Even with the weak sunlight on his face, the area around his eyes remained dark. He clearly hadn't slept in days. Samson didn't much like the look. It gave him the appearance of someone willing to do _things_. Things to turn a stomach.

"You've got nothing left to lose, Samson," he said. "We may as well speak honestly. What were you looking for? Power? Glory? Why did you join him?"

Samson wanted to give a snide remark, but none came to him. Much as he hated to admit it, Cullen had him rattled. Besides, what was the point in bravado now? The man was right. He didn't have anything left, much less pride.

The truth, then.

"Glory in some respect, I suppose. Mostly hunger."

"Hunger?" He sounded incredulous.

"Yeah, _hunger_. Hunger for purpose, hunger for lyrium, hunger for _food_. Hunger. Kirkwall after you left... shit, Rutherford. I hadn't eaten in five days. I was lurking in the Hanged Man hoping someone would take pity on me. Someone did."

"Corypheus?"

He nodded and dropped his gaze. "I'm… I'm not proud of it. He gave me lyrium, a warm meal and he promised me a future where no one would suffer at the hands of the Chantry as I had."

"Other than being turned into red lyrium monstrosities you mean?"

"They were always doomed to die," he answered, but his words came out small and compressed, delivered to his lap.

"I didn't hear that," Cullen said.

Samson forced his eyes to meet the commander's once more. "They were doomed to die anyways. You and I both know that. Lyrium madness either way. At least… at least they'd go down fighting. They'd go down making a difference to this blighted world."

"Some difference."

"Yeah, I know."

"You admit he was wrong?"

Samson chuckled. "What? You're surprised? You think I actually believed any of his great Tevinter bullshit?"

Had he? He didn't truly know himself. It had certainly been appealing thinking of a new power that wasn't the Chantry, but Samson hadn't allowed himself to think on it too much. It was like that time he'd discovered a nest of beatles under one of the paving stones in the Gallows courtyard. Ugly little things, especially in that number, all crawling over each other. And as long as he didn't think about them, he could stop feeling like they were crawling under his skin.

"You were his right hand, a few moments from becoming his Vessel when we stopped you," Cullen insisted. "You were willing to give your life for him."

"Wrong. I was willing to give my life for a new world. He was the means. And... he recognised me as someone worthy to help. Which is more than the Chantry ever did. I know you will never believe me, Rutherford, and I don't blame you. But that's the truth." _The truth._ It felt true, as it reverberated through his chest. Regardless of consequence, it was honest. He found himself staring at his hands, where red lyrium had once grown beneath his nails. "At the time, I thought the ends justified the means."

"And now?"

"What does it matter? What's done is done."

Rutherford was at the bars again, his dark eyes glaring down. "It matters because Celeste wants me to release you."

 _Celeste_. His heart kicked, stomach tightening with surprise and… maybe something else. "Release me?"

"She says you've changed and you're a wasted resource. She believes you could help the Inquisition."

"She does, does she?" There was no hiding the smile that tugged at his lips. "And what do you believe, Rutherford?"

"I believe you're dangerous. I've seen what you're capable of."

"But then you seem to like dangerous things." _Her green eyes glowing in the light from her spell, the smell of lyrium, hunger like he'd never known, his skin being stretched, ripped… the cold solace of death_. "How's the missus?"

Cullen scowled, showing his teeth, an expression completely at odds with his usual cultured demeanor.

"That good? Forget I said anything. Look, Rutherford, if you're wanting me to plead my case, I'm afraid you're gonna be disappointed. I know what I did. I know what I deserve. Besides, that ambassador of yours? She'll have your head." He laughed. "Imagine her trying to explain that one away."

Cullen reached up towards the bars and Samson flinched despite himself. But he didn't shake them, or slam them.

Instead, the soft _clink_ of a lock. "What are you doing?"

It was all Samson could do to stare as the door of the cell swung open. Fear pooled in his belly, with the barrier between them removed, Cullen could do anything. Sunlight glinted off his sword pommel and Samson regretted the quip about his wife. An apology was on his lips, but Cullen stepped aside.

Samson tried to read his expression, and failed.

"Don't be mistaken," Cullen said. "You're not _free_. I will be watching you and my men have orders to throw you right back in here should you set foot outside of Skyhold. But Celeste is right in one respect. You are a valuable resource and since we're keeping you alive, we might as well make use of your skills. The quartermaster is expecting you. Get kitted up and meet me in my office. Anyone can tell you where it is."

Relief left Samson in a whoosh of air like a laugh as he got to his feet. "You had your mind made up before you even got here."

"Don't make me change it."

"Yessir."

* * *

 _A/N If you like the Samson redemption stuff, I've also written a shorter fic in which he falls in love with the Inquisitor (16 chapters, stand alone). It's in a very different style and very NSFW._ _[archive of our own . org ]_ _/works/10871610_

 _A lot of this Samson info is taken from the Bioware short story about him, Paper and Steel, which you can read free on the wiki and I highly recommend :)._


	72. Reborn

"Celeste, dear, you have a visitor."

Celeste straightened, tightening the rag around her head that kept her hair out of the food. In addition to the usual breakfast rolls, Ambassador Montilyet had requested a selection of pastries for some visiting Chantry mothers. Hopefully they'd be appreciative. She'd been bent over folding pastry for the last hour, and her back made its displeasure known as she turned towards the doorway.

She fully expected to see Solana. Even in the fancy guest room, the woman had seemed ill at ease when they'd parted the night before.

Instead, Raleigh Samson hovered in the shadows just beyond the door.

He was tall. She must have known that at some stage, but in the mornings she'd been sitting with him, she'd forgotten. He loomed, although the expression on his face was far from threatening.

Her throat constricted, heart skittered. She wiped her hands on a cloth. "I'll be a minute Marsha."

The other cook took her place over the pastry without comment.

Out in the corridor, Samson ducked his chin and offered her a shaky smile. "I believe I owe you my thanks." His voice was soft. She would have said he was nervous, were that not so at odds with who he was.

"I didn't think it would work."

"Yeah, well, Rutherford's always hated a wasted resource."

"He told you what I said?" She searched his expression for resentment.

"Yeah, but don't worry. If anything, I'm glad you think I could be useful." His eyes lingered on her face and it was difficult to breathe. Was that all Cullen had told him? She could feel her neck heating. When she said nothing, he continued. "I'm to see the quartermaster, get equipped. You know where I can find him?"

"Yes, he's… I'll take you."

"You don't need to."

"It's no trouble. It's just down here." She turned quickly, heading back into the kitchen and out the back door into the courtyard.

The air was fresh and fragrant after the previous night's rains, a welcome respite from the stuffy kitchen. Celeste anticipated some sort of reaction when they moved through the marketplace, but it seemed no one recognised the man she was with as Corypheus's right hand. How many at Skyhold had seen his face? They'd known him by his red armour, and now he wore nothing but cotton.

A cool breeze teased at the branches, rustling new leaves and pulling wisps of Celeste's hair free.

 _I probably look a sight. And why do I care? What does it matter. It doesn't matter._

She tucked her hair behind her ears as they came to a halt before the barracks. "Here you are."

"Much obliged." Samson's shoulders were hunched and he stared down at his feet.

"Morris won't bite," Celeste teased. The very idea of nervous young quartermaster being threatening was amusing. It was more likely he'd scarper from Samson on sight.

The corners of Samson's mouth twitched upwards. "Guess this is it." He shrugged. "I… I'm not really one for speeches and the like. But you've been kind to me these last weeks, when no one should've been. I s'pose I wanted to say thanks."

But the way he said it, it sounded like "goodbye".

 _Oh._

It hadn't occurred to her. She'd have no reason to see him after this. And why should it matter? It was probably for the best. He was _Raleigh Samson_. And Ren would arrive soon, and how would she explain this friendship - _or whatever it was_ \- to her son?

"I suppose you'll be eating in the hall now?" she asked.

"Yeah, I suppose." He fidgeted, cleared his throat. "W-will you be eating in the hall?"

Her heart leapt. "I…" _say something._ "Yes, I suppose I will."

His answering smile made her head feel light. It wasn't even a particularly handsome smile, but she found herself staring.

"I… I'd better get back," she gestured over her shoulder.

His smile faltered. "Yeah, of course. Thanks again."

That unidentifiable heat was back in her belly as she moved away from him. She made it halfway past the tavern before something made her pause.

"Samson?" She didn't even know if he was still there.

"Yea?"

"I… I finish at ten. That's when I'll go eat."

She could hear the grin in his voice when he answered, "Right."

It took a good few minutes for the heat in her cheeks to fade, and by the time it did, she was back in the kitchen, bent over pastry once more.

* * *

It didn't take long for Samson to realise he was not going to make it to breakfast by ten. The quartermaster spent the better part of an hour tittering and measuring and figuring out what manner of armour was best for him. Cullen hadn't specified. Samson eyed the plate, recalling better days, but it turned out he was still too weak to bear the weight. In the end, they landed on leathers.

Leather was better anyways. New like a new start. Stiff as he was.

He found Cullen's office easily enough. The Commander was behind his desk glaring at a lyrium box. He jerked when Samson rapped on the door and pretended to be focused on something else - some book on the Blight he had lying on his desk.

He spoke to Samson while looking at the book, taking him through the day's plans until Samson interrupted. "Still tempting is it?"

Cullen's eyes widened and he cleared his throat. Did his face pale? It was hard to tell with his pallor. It took him a moment to speak. "It always is."

Samson had expected making Cullen feel unsettled to be more satisfying than it was. The man looked positively haunted.

"Well props to you for managing to stop. Willingly. That's something, innit? There's nothing quite like the call of the dust."

As sympathetic as he'd meant the words, they didn't seem to be received that way. Cullen glared at him and gestured sharply at the door.

Meeting Cullen's men was the closest to public shaming Samson had come since being captured. He wasn't stripped naked and flogged, but he might well have been by the way the recruits glared at him. Cullen introduced him as Corypheus's right hand, as someone who had been their enemy and had seen their weaknesses. He was to work on those weaknesses with them.

Fortunately, Cullen was right. He _did_ know their weaknesses.

"You're a fine bunch individually, but you're not individuals at war. That's where we - er - the Red Templars always had one up. You all have things to die for back here, right? Pretty ladies, wives, children, a game of diamondback. We never had that. We had singular purpose and that meant that each one of my men was willing to die to protect his neighbour out on the field. If we wanted to down you lot, all we had to do was find the gap in your shields, or find the one man distracted enough to let us through."

Training itself took nearly three hours and Samson was fall-down exhausted by the end of it. It must have been after eleven by the time he made it to the great hall, and as expected there was no one there.

Celeste wasn't there the next day either, when he did manage to make it by ten. He sat at the end of one of the long tables, keeping to himself. Now people glared and whispered and pointed at him. _Well, the anonymity had been nice while it'd lasted._ It was little wonder no one came at him with a knife or tried to slip poison into his food. The very last thing he should be worrying about was whether Celeste would join him, but he looked up every time someone entered the hall, regardless.

The following day, when there was still no sign of her, he thought perhaps her shifts had changed. That or she was spiteful about being stood up. Or, more likely, she'd changed her mind about wanting to eat with him. And good for her, because the last thing he'd want would be to make her a pariah for spending time with him.

Still, he found himself wandering down to the kitchens. He reasoned he'd like to hear it straight from her if that was the case, if only so that he could eat in peace without looking up every few moments in hopes of seeing her.

The shift seemed the same as when he'd visited before. The girl who'd been helping her spotted Samson in the doorway again. From her open expression, it appeared she still didn't know who he was. Good.

"I, um, Celeste?" _Mumbling idiot._

"Oh, she's off ill, dear."

"Ill?" his voice pitched upwards as his chest tightened.

Marsha chuckled. "A cold, dear. She should be back at work come Sunday. Do not fret." 

* * *

Celeste accepted the cup from Solana. It was warm to the touch, but not hot. The concoction must have cooled on the trip down from her new quarters. A whole pot of the stuff was sitting on a stool near Celeste's head, and the fragrant steam rising from it smelled like honey.

"It's gnot from Orlais, is it? Still havin flashbacks," Celeste said, hoping Solana could make out the words despite her blocked nose.

Solana's smile assured her she could. "It's as Ferelden as you get. Ginger, honey and elfroot."

"Oh good." Celeste took a tentative sip. It wasn't half bad. The honey balanced out the bitterness of the roots. "You shouldn be here. I don want Alise to get sick."

"It's my fault you're ill. You were out in the rain because of me."

Celeste couldn't argue. She hoped a sympathetic expression would do the trick.

Solana reached over her to puff her pillows. "And as for Alise, don't worry, Natalia seems more than happy to entertain her."

Celeste managed to contain her sneeze until Solana had leaned back again, and was grateful for the handkerchief her friend passed her.

She was in the middle of blowing her nose when Solana's chair screeched back. There, in the doorway of the room, was Samson. He seemed as startled to see Solana as she was to see him. He clutched a small basket in front of him, like a shield.

He recovered quickly though and offered Solana a small nod. "Mrs Rutherford."

Blue light burst from Solana's palm and hovered there.

His eyes flicked to it. "Let me guess, your husband failed to inform you of my release?" He held out the basket. "Delivery, from the kitchens."

"So what? You're an errand boy now?"

"Something like that."

Solana stepped forward tentatively to take the basket in her free hand. She didn't extinguish the spell.

"I'll be on my way then," Samson said. His eyes moved briefly to Celeste, and he gave her a curt nod before melting back into the shadows beyond the door.

Solana sighed and sank onto her chair, handing Celeste the basket. "Cullen might have said something."

"Have you spoken to him at all?" Celeste asked, sinuses blissfully clear for the moment.

"No. But if Samson's roaming about the place I was certain to run into him. Who's to say he's not going to come seeking revenge?"

"Oh yes, that business where you killed him."

Solana chewed on her lip. Her hands were curled into fists, and her knuckles were white.

"Relax. I'm sure Cullen's got people watching 'im. He wouldn't put you in danger. You know that."

Solana sighed and nodded. "Well, nice of the kitchen to send you a care package. Go on then."

Celeste moved the handkerchief covering the top of the basket aside. Two rolls and a sprig of embrium. Warmth flushed up from her stomach, to her chest. She grinned.

Solana frowned at the contents. "Embrium's good for the chest, but bread isn't the most substantial meal. I would have expected soup or something."

"I like bread," Celeste said.

* * *

Cullen had been dreading the spymaster's visit. He'd known it was coming.

The day Solana left, he'd stayed up at his desk waiting, drinking wine until he stopped tasting it. He'd pictured Leliana entering, planning to drag him from his bed and lecture him, only to find him sitting up waiting for her. He'd push a glass towards her and she'd take a seat and they'd share silence until she started with accusations and he'd be too numb to feel anything.

That's not what had transpired.

He'd woken up at his desk as the first rays of light poured in through the broken roof. Cotton-mouthed, reeking of wine, with a pounding headache, he'd readied himself for morning drills.

Leliana had not come to him the next night either. But he'd known she would, eventually.

He was going over the latest report from Griffon Wing Keep, when one of Leliana's messengers finally arrived at his desk. He passed Cullen a parchment that said simply, "Come see me at sunset."

Ominous. But then, that was very like her.

Unease chased Cullen up to the tower. The pit of his stomach was cold and sour. At this time of the day, the rookery was empty and heavy with shadows, black against the orange of the failing light. He was half expecting Leliana to melt from one of them with a dagger in hand, but he found her on the balcony looking down at the herb garden.

She turned at his approach. "I have news."

"News?" That… was not what he'd expected.

Nodding, she brushed past him to her desk where she rifled through papers and drew out a piece of parchment. "Grey Wardens. It seems obvious now."

"Grey Wardens?" he repeated, mind recalibrating.

She waved the page at him. "Grey Wardens. He's a Warden. They've been leaving for months. It should have been my first thought."

Cullen plucked the parchment from her hand and examined it. A list of times in various scripts, and beside them a few jotted notes that made very little sense.

"What does 'raven bottle elfroot' mean?"

Leliana rolled her eyes. "It means two women with no weapons left Skyhold. I should think that would be obvious."

He wasn't sure if she was joking.

"And then 'garden of flowers'?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Jim feeling creative." Leliana took the page back. "It's eight children. He's supposed to list the types of flowers but I suppose he didn't see them as much of a threat." She pointed a little way down the page. "See this here?"

Cullen had to squint; the writing was nearly ineligible. "Wagtail quid embrium."

"That's right. Single blonde mage. That's Anders. And he's alone." How she came to that conclusion, Cullen couldn't begin to guess. She snatched another page off her desk and thrust it into his hand. "I was trying to find a record that showed he either took the phylacteries with him or someone brought them after him. Then I realised it made far more sense for him to send them ahead. Less suspicious that way, no?" She smoothed the page she'd given him and pointed at a time code a few hours before the 'wagtail'.

This one he could understand a part of at least. "Griffons."

"Griffons stand plaidweave quid," she read out the full entry. "Four Grey Wardens with a cart and a single horse."

"Plaidweave?" He couldn't help but ask.

"It's a description of the transport. Not armoured, plain, old-fashioned… ugly."

"That's not much to go on."

She sighed, taking the page from him again and placing both on her desk, where she leaned, face covered in shadow. "Which is why I didn't come to you sooner. Wardens have been leaving Skyhold ever since we defeated Corypheus. That is no secret. But I've started digging."

"Digging?" He moved closer to her.

"Digging, Commander. I received word this morning from my agents near Halamshiral. Wardens aren't just leaving Skyhold. They're disappearing."

He sank into an open chair. "Maker, not this again."

"There's more. Solana's been writing to Weishaupt since Adamant. She's received no reply. At least none that I've seen. And I have been keeping a careful watch on her, as you might well imagine."

"Solana's not involved," Cullen confirmed. He even managed to keep his voice steady on her name.

"Oh, I know that." She became suddenly very busy with her papers and Cullen hoped that might be the extent of their talk of Solana. But Leliana shook her head, " _Alistair_ , really?"

Cullen pulled his back straight. "You heard the entire exchange?"

"No. But it was loud enough that my agents down the corridor did. Still, I suppose she needed to hear it."

He didn't know whether to be more embarrassed or surprised. Was Leliana taking his side?

Before he could find words to respond, she was smiling at him. "She'll come round. Give her time. She's always had a hot head."

But even if she did come around, what then? Nothing had been the same since Kinloch, and it might never be. Perhaps he needed to accept that.

* * *

Celeste tossed over onto her side. Her body was hot with fever and all she wanted to do was sleep, but people were talking. It must have been the shift change. Two of the women she roomed with did the evening dinner run.

"It's the strangest thing."

"That's definitely what it said?"

Celeste cracked her eyes open to glare at them. They were standing near the door, oblivious. She recognised the first speaker as a member of the resistance who had also found work and acceptance at Skyhold.

"Yes, 'your fellow mages need you'. I swear to the Maker, it was just as you said. Strange shadow with a rasping voice. Knew my name and everything."

"Demon?"

"Must be. Gives me the shivers, let me tell you…"

They moved out into the corridor, and with the silence Celeste fell back into her own dreams.


	73. What's to come

_A/N For those who are still worried, I AM going to keep my promise, I am going to fix everything! :D_

 _Also I just want to say that I love all of these characters and that you can trust me with them. I can't say more without spoilers._

* * *

"He'll be fine," Solana assured Celeste for the umpteenth time. "No one's going to attack a merchant caravan bound for the Inquisition. And our soldiers patrol the route."

Alise gave another impatient squeal, reaching over Solana's shoulder towards the horses. Solana bounced her, but kept focussed on Celeste.

The woman paced with her arms folded. Her breath puffed in the cool morning air. Every so often, she'd pause and stare out at the gates, before resuming her march backwards and forwards.

"I know, I know. I have nothing to worry about." Still, she stared at the portcullis as if she could make it rise by will alone.

Then, with a great creak and the clatter of chains, it _did_ start to rise. Solana examined Celeste's face, half-convinced she was lifting it with her magic. But, though Celeste's every muscle was tensed, her attention was not on the rising metal that protected Skyhold's main gates, but on a caravan that slowly made its way up the steep mountain road.

When Solana had walked into the kitchen that morning, she'd found the head cook red in the face, yelling at Celeste to pull herself together. Apparently she'd spilled an entire jug of garum all over the floor, shattered several plates and burned half of the day's bread. When the cook chased them out, they'd come out here to wait. It had still been dark and Solana had fed Alise in the shadows of the barn. Now, an hour later, she was starting to fidget.

The courtyard had also filled up significantly.

The crowd that had gathered to greet the merchant caravan whooped and cheered as the first grey mare clopped through the gates. It was several tense minutes before the three passenger carriages at the centre of the caravan ejected their occupants. A small boy stepped down from the furthest. He was lean, with tousled brown hair, a smattering of freckles and Celeste's keen green eyes. He looked around, brow puckered. Celeste did not seem to notice him amongst the sudden chaos of off-loading - boxes of fruit, reams of fabric, barrels of exotic drink and an assortment of other cargo dominated the courtyard. Solana was about to point Ren out, when someone else stepped down from the carriage beside him.

Varric.

The dwarf placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and pointed in Solana's direction. The boy's face stretched into a broad grin. He waved wildly. Celeste saw him and broke into a sprint. She fell to her knees as she reached him and pulled him into a fierce embrace.

Varric's gaze travelled over Solana, resting just behind her. She turned, expecting to see Hawke. But it was Cullen she found standing calmly a few meters back.

Her insides jerked. The cold air she drew into her lungs wasn't enough. _Cullen._ She hadn't seen him at all since she'd left him in their room. He was thinner, paler and his mouth was set in a deep frown.

Varric passed Solana as if she wasn't there."Commander, I didn't expect to find you waiting for me. Tell me this is a coincidence, or I'm going to have to fire some people." He offered Cullen his hand.

"A coincidence?" Solana was unable to stop herself from approaching the duo.

Varric's gaze slid to her and his eyes narrowed. "Hero." The nickname was thick with irony. "How's the kid?"

Alise was chewing on her fist, eyes large as silver pieces while she watched the antics of the merchants.

"She's well," Solana said. "Thank you."

As if on cue, Alise gave a whimper. She wriggled, kicking out her stockinged feet in displeasure, before opening her mouth and wailing.

"She's easily overwhelmed," Cullen provided.

Solana bounced her again, but she only yelled louder. Solana didn't want to leave, she wanted to find out why Varric was here. She wanted to meet Celeste's son. But she had little choice when Alise was making that much noise. "I should… I should take her inside. Sorry."

"Yeah, you do that," Varric said.

* * *

Cullen felt involuntary sympathy for Solana as he watched her head back into the main building, shushing their screaming child.

Not because she had to deal with Alise. All the noise and activity of the caravan's arrival was just the sort of thing he would have expected to set her off. Solana was good with her, and he had no doubt that Alise would quieten the instant they entered Skyhold's dim recesses.

But he'd never seen Varric being cold.

Even in Kirkwall, when he'd been a Templar and Varric had spent his free hours drinking with the leader of the mage rebellion. And afterwards, after the bloodshed and Meredith, after Cassandra had recruited Cullen to the Inquisition, when Cullen had been suffering the ravages of withdrawal, it had been Varric who'd coaxed him out of himself, who'd forced him to smile. They'd been on opposite sides of a war, and Cullen had never seen this side of Varric.

As soon as Solana was out of earshot, Cullen said softly, "You received my letter, I take it?"

Varric snorted. "Yes Curly, I received your letter. And fortunately for you I pay people to ensure no one else did. You have any idea how dangerous that information is? Least you could do is use a cypher. Who else knows about this?"

"Look, Varric, I hardly expected you to come all this way-"

"Nightingale no doubt, whether you intended her to or not."

"Yes, she knows. Varric, I merely wanted to ascertain whether you had perhaps heard anything about where-"

"And the Inquisitor, you've told him?" Varric slung his pack over his shoulder and began walking towards the stairs to the upper bailey.

"No."

Varric gave him a meaningful look.

"I… meant to tell him. He's left for the Frostback Basin on an archaeological mission. Cassandra's in charge."

"I see."

"I thought it best not to inform her."

Varric chuckled. "Yeah, I can imagine how that would go down. And Hawke?"

"Yes."

"You told Hawke?"

"Of course I told Hawke. If Anders left a clue with anyone I assumed it would be with him."

"And did he?"

"No."

Varric said nothing until they reached the Herald's Rest. He turned suddenly at the entrance and in a low voice asked, "How's he been?"

"Who, Hawke?"

"No, the guy who mucks the stables." He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Hawke."

"Ah…" Cullen wasn't certain how to answer. He scratched the back of his neck. "I suppose he's been as one would expect considering the circumstances."

Varric pushed the door all the way open and strode in.

The tavern was almost empty at this time of morning. Maryden sat on a stool tuning her lute. A single patron slumped at the bar. Cabot was busy drying a glass. Varric strode up to him, and reached for his purse. He paused.

"Hawke?"

The drunk at the bar turned on his stool. _Maker's breath_ , it really was Hawke. He hadn't shaved recently and his hair had grown longer. He had a wild look about him as he stared at them through bleary eyes. "Varric?"

* * *

Samson thwacked at the dummy so hard the thing shuddered and straw flew. His arms were feeling like a pair of jellied eels and it was frustrating. A year ago he'd have been able to march half a day and fight for the rest of it. Now Cullen's morning training sessions were enough to wear him out.

"So, they entrusted you with a real sword, then?"

Celeste. He was grinning before he even turned around and saw her leaning against a tree in the shadows near the armory.

"You're looking better," he said, before thinking to wipe away the sweat from his brow.

A movement near her skirts drew his gaze. A small boy with shaggy brown hair was half hidden behind her and staring with big green eyes. She gently pushed him forward.

"This is Ser Samson."

So, he'd arrived. The boy - _her_ boy - continued to stare at him.

"And you would be Ren, I presume?" Samson strode closer, offering the young man his hand. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Are you a Templar?" Ren asked.

The question caught Samson off guard. "I… used to be. How'd you figure that?"

Ren frowned. "Templars are big. And they carry swords." His eyes darted to the training dummy, where Samson's shield leaned. "And they fight with shields."

"Observant young lad."

Celeste ruffled his hair. "We taught him to be able to identify Templars from an early age. You can imagine the necessity."

He was confused only a moment before he remembered. She was an apostate. A maleficar no less. Of course, most of the boy's life they would have been hiding from people such as he.

To Ren, Celeste said, "Ser Samson isn't a Templar anymore. He's with the Inquisition now."

Was he? He supposed he was.

"Did you fight against Corypheus?" Ren asked.

Samson's stomach dropped. But Celeste laughed.

"Uh," Samson said, "not exactly."

He dreaded a follow-up question, but Ren's attention was on his sword. "Can you teach me how to fight?"

"Ren!" Celeste laughed again.

"Symon and Antony fight with swords," he protested.

Samson raised his eyebrows in silent query. She didn't have other children she'd failed to mention?

"Your cousins are older than you," Celeste said, her gaze meeting Samson's.

"I'm ten," he proclaimed. "Last Fall the Templars came for recruits and they took Steiven and he's only eight. But his dad let him use a sword when he was five and-"

"-and you're not going to tell me you want to be a Templar?" Celeste's voice pitched in genuine concern.

Ren blushed. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "No."

"I'm sure I can teach him a few things," Samson said, although the moment he started speaking he doubted himself. He could see Ren was anxious to learn, but was it overstepping? He didn't want to upset Celeste. That was the very last thing he wanted.

Ren's small face lit up and he looked to his mother with such desperate hope that she shook her head and sighed, "We'll see."

Not satisfied to let the subject drop, Ren turned back to Samson. "How old were you when you started training, Ser Samson?"

Crafty little thing, this one. "Me? I was given to the Chantry, so I'm a poor example."

"Given to the Chantry?" His jaw hung open.

"Ren," Celeste cautioned. "It's not polite to ask someone you've just met so many questions."

Samson waved off her concern. "Naw, I don't mind. My parents gave me to the Chantry at the age of five. The Chantry decided I was to become a Templar and my training began."

"Why'd they give you to the Chantry? Didn't they like you?"

Celeste dropped her head forward into her hands. "Ren, please."

 _Out of the mouths of babes..._ "No, I suppose they didn't much like me. I was another mouth to feed, you see. They never meant to have another child, but they made a brave show of it for a few years. Then they hit on financial troubles and, well, I became a Templar."

"That's horrible!" Ren was more affected by the story than Samson had expected. He'd always known children to be rather selfish, lacking empathy. But Ren's large green eyes mimicked his mother's. They looked at him like he was a person, worthy of sympathy.

Samson shifted in discomfort, regretting saying as much as he had. "It wasn't all that bad." That was a lie. "I don't even remember them, truth be told." That was a lie too. He remembered his father's fists all too well, and the cold first nights in the monastery when he'd known himself to be unwanted, unloved; when the older kids had seen that weakness and tortured it out of him. Still, he managed to force a smile. "Given the choice, though, I would have chosen to run playing over sword drills and the likes. It's not very exciting. Perhaps you should take some time to enjoy all Skyhold has to offer a boy, hey?"

Ren pouted and nodded, but his eyes stayed locked on Samson's sword.

* * *

Hawke leaned back against the wall and tried to ignore the ache in his chest. His chest and his head. His chest and his head and his stomach. _Maker._ Solana had made alcohol seem like a decent coping mechanism back when they'd first met. He'd have words with her… if she ever spoke to him again.

Varric handed him a mug of water across the table. The entire upstairs was theirs, and he'd seen Varric slip Cabot some silver to ensure it stayed that way for the next few hours.

As usual, Varric's expression didn't say much as he settled on the bench opposite. Cullen hovered, arms folded, eyes darting around the room. He couldn't look more suspect if he tried.

"Take a seat Curly, you're making me nervous."

Cullen frowned, but did as Varric asked, sliding in next do the dwarf and placing his clasped hands on the table.

"So this is about Anders, I take it?" Hawke broke the increasingly awkward silence.

"I missed you too." Varric smiled. "I see you're keeping well?"

Hawke rolled his eyes and took a sip of the water. It was marvelously cool, sliding down his throat like silk. He wanted to keep drinking, maybe drink another three mugs of the stuff before crawling into bed and awaiting his hangover. Although, by the feel of his temples, it had already arrived.

"I doubt you would have brought Cullen along for a social call. No offence, Commander."

Cullen inclined his head. "None taken."

"Now the niceties are out of the way…" Varric leaned forward. "You two going to tell me what happened?"

"How much do you know?"

"Curly here thought it was a good idea to send a letter informing me that Blondie had taken off, possibly with Ferelden's phylacteries."

Cullen growled. "Well forgive me, subterfuge is hardly _my_ area of expertise."

"I don't know whether that's meant as an insult or-"

"Stop." Hawke held up a hand. The last thing he needed on top of his blinding headache was the two of them getting into it.

Varric drew a breath. "Alright. I apologise. I know this can't be easy-"

"That's putting it mildly."

"Yeah, look, I know what Blondie meant to you. But I'll sleep a lot better when we know what he's doing with those phylacteries. Maybe you can take us through what he was like before he left. Did he say anything?"

"If he'd said anything, I would have told Cullen when he first informed me that it's Justice we're dealing with, not Anders." Hawke kept his tone light, but he couldn't resist looking at the commander when the words landed. Cullen did not disappoint. He flinched and closed his eyes.

"You failed to mention that in your letter." Varric said. "How can you be sure?"

"Cullen made Anders give over control."

"It was the only way to get to Solana." His eyes were still pressed shut.

"Alright, so we're dealing with a spirit on a rampage again? Oh, that's perfect, that's just great." Varric leaned forward, forearms on the table, bringing his head closer. "Hawke, I need you to think. Did he say anything, anything at all that could indicate what _kind_ of a rampage this is?"

"Varric…" Even thinking hurt. Hawke didn't want to have this conversation.

But Varric didn't stop speaking. "You know, grumbling about the price of silverite? In a mood over the slaves in Tevinter? Anything at all at this point would be helpful."

"No."

"Are you sure? Not suddenly upset about how the Carter runs Dark Town?"

"Yes."

"Well what _did_ he say? Maybe you missed something-"

"Nothing!" Hawke shot to his feet, all the hurt and bitterness bursting forth like a dam breaking. "He said nothing. Nothing at all. Because I refused to talk to him. Alright? After that room… with the blood... I turned him away. I said I needed space and I needed time. And he gave it to me." Part of him wanted to leave them there, leave it like that. But where would he storm off to? The room that still smelled like Anders? With the uncaged rage came grief, like a whiplash. He deflated, crumpling into himself and sinking back onto the bench. "I always knew I was the one standing between him and self-destruction. I should have spoken to him. Perhaps I could have-"

He jerked as Varric's hand landed on his arm. "Hawke-"

Varric's eyes were big and sad and not at all helping Hawke get control of himself.

"It's not your fault," Cullen said, matter-of-factly. "It is mine. We have established as much. And until we know more, there is no saying whether or not you could have stopped him."

"Chin up, Hawke. It's Anders," Varric said. "It's not like he's going to be using the phylacteries for blood magic. Whatever it is, it's probably something noble. Or at least something he _thinks_ is noble."

"That's what worries me," Hawke said softly.


	74. Shadows fall

_Celeste was in that alcove again - the cold stone floors, the smell of damp, the darkness. Footsteps echoed towards her. "Little Mage… where are you hiding?"_

 _She pulled her knees up to her chest and hid her head. Beads of sweat gathered that the nape of her neck._

 _His shadow passed the entrance, tall and monstrous, blocking out the light. His armour rattled. Her heart slammed._

 _"You can't hide, Little Mage. Hiding is against the rules. You don't want me to tell them you broke the rules, do you?"_

 _He paused and she was certain he sensed her. She'd found this alcove behind the books after she'd heard some of the mages talking about it._

 _"You know what happens to apprentices who break the rules, don't you? They simply cannot be Harrowed. It's too dangerous."_

 _He knew she was there. He must have known or he would have moved on._

 _"Celeste."_

 _She jumped at the sound of another voice, another person in the alcove with her. She always hid here alone. There shouldn't have been anyone else here._

 _Celeste wanted to tell them to shush. If they didn't, he would hear. But she was too frightened to speak. Her tongue felt numb and heavy._

 _"Celeste," the whisper in the darkness said. "Come to me, I can help you."_

 _The Templar turned, his shadow changing direction, showing he was moving back towards the alcove._

 _No! He'd heard them!_

 _But the voice spoke again. "Join me and we can make sure the Circles never return. Protect your fellow mages. Come to me."_

 _Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't. She was paralysed by fear._

 _"Little Mage…"_

 _"Come to me…"_

 _"Little Mage, I see you…"_

 _"Come to me…"_

 _The Templar stood opposite her, a dark silhouette staring straight at her. As he moved forward, light fell across his face._

 _Instead of the face she expected, he bore the face of Raleigh Samson._

Celeste jerked awake. She heaved in air. Her back was coated in ice cold sweat.

"Mom?" Ren's voice came from the bed next to hers.

She rolled over and found him propped up on his elbow. The light of the dying fire showed her his sleepy, concerned expression.

For many years she'd been frightened that he would grow to have _his_ face. But Ren's eyes were hers, and his other features were uniquely his own.

She smiled at him. "Everything's fine. Go back to sleep." 

* * *

It was after midnight and even though the tavern was still bright and loud, the rest of Skyhold was draped in shadow.

Varric knew _she'd_ still be up, but he thought it was polite to knock anyways. As his knuckles hit the wooden pillar, disturbed ravens took flight, cawing loudly. If Leliana had been asleep she was no longer.

A shadow near the Chantry altar moved.

"Varric." He could hear a smile in her voice, even though he couldn't see her features against the light of the candles. "I heard you arrived with the merchants this morning. Checking up on Hawke?"

"That," he acknowledged, moving towards her. "And other things. I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

She laughed, a dull sound like brass left unpolished. "Why would you possibly be disturbing me at this hour?"

"Fair point."

She swept past him to her desk where she had a bottle of wine open. She poured some into a mug and handed it to him, keeping the bottle for herself.

"I'm gone a few weeks and everyone's become an alcoholic," he commented, accepting the drink regardless.

"This?" she tilted the bottle as if to read the label. "Oh, this is for you, Varric. I thought you'd stop by."

"Did you now?"

"Rowan's Rose. I seem to recall you were fond of the vintage."

He couldn't help but chuckle as he settled onto one of the barrels beside her desk. "And what made you think I'd stop by, Nightingale?"

The wine brought to mind a night in the Hanged Man trading stories with her, Dorian, Hawke and The Iron Bull. There was probably some meaning in her referencing that night, but it was lost on him. Maybe she really did just think he'd like the wine.

Her mouth did that thing - twisting up in the corner as if she were amused - while her eyes remained hard. "Anders."

She didn't miss a trick. But then neither did he. "I'm assuming you're the person to speak to on the subject."

Leliana inclined her head and poured a second mug of wine. "Who told you? Hawke?"

"Curly, actually. He thought I might be able to help."

She raised her eyebrows. Odd, Varric would have expected her to see the letter before anyone else. "And are you?" she asked.

"Not as much as he hoped. I tried to tell him what I've found earlier but, well… he's not in a great place right now, is he?"

Leliana shook her head and took a deep drink from her own mug.

"I heard he and the Hero... no longer a thing?"

The spymistress sighed. "Partly my fault. I offered to discover where her loyalties lay, to set his mind at ease."

"He suspected her?"

"Can you blame him? At any rate, he obviously mistook my meaning. Thought I'd torture her or some such."

"Don't know where he'd get such a wild notion."

"Me neither. He tricked her into discovering the broken wards, and then they had it out. I believe he told her she was responsible for Alistair's death."

Varric almost choked on his wine. "He what?"

Leliana shrugged. "Not in as many words. But the sentiment was there. She and the baby are in the guest quarters now."

"Well, shit."

She sighed again and pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is bad, Varric."

An unguarded moment, could it be? He reached for the wine and filled up his mug. "Yeah… about that. I take it you know about Justice."

"That Cullen suspects he's in control? Yes. Although that was not what I meant." Her mouth quirked again. "I meant the two of them."

"Marriages break up all the time. Maybe it's not meant to be."

Leliana shook her head. "No. They need each other."

"Now, I know they're your friends but they're grownups and-"

"Leliana?"

Varric jumped and spun around, almost spilling his drink. There was a ghostly figure at the top of the stairs. A woman with pale skin, pale hair and a white nightdress. Her eyes were covered in shadow and even as Varric's heart raced, he made mental notes on the scene for a horror he'd been plotting. All that was missing was a bloodied knife in her hand.

Leliana, for her part, had shot to her feet and now she squinted at the figure, as if she was also trying to determine if they'd been visited by a particularly opaque spirit.

The woman drifted forward, the moonlight illuminating bare feet - at this time of night, at this time of year. "I was hoping you were up. I'm sorry to disturb you." She fidgeted, and then she seemed to notice Varric for the first time. "I'm sorry to interrupt."

"I know you," he said, squinting at her features in the dim light. She was Solana's friend, the one who'd been helping her with that research, who'd lead them to Samson. "You're Celeste. Ren's mum. Something the matter with the boy?"

The kid had been equal parts nervous and excited on the trip up. He'd only stopped babbling when Varric had agreed to tell him stories. And then he had sat with back straight as a rod and eyes wide, hanging on every word. Good kid.

Celeste shook her head. "I… I wouldn't usually come disturb you at this hour, but I wasn't sure who else to speak to."

She wrapped her arms around herself, as if just noticing she was cold. Leliana produced a blanket from somewhere and draped it around her shoulders. "Solana?" she queried.

Celeste shook her head again. "No… I… dreams."

"Dreams?"

"I think there's someone visiting me in my dreams."

Varric took another sip of his wine. "You're a mage, aren't demon dream visits part of the package?"

"This feels different. I… I don't know how to describe it." She stared down at her feet. "There's this presence. It keeps saying the same thing. 'Come to me, join me.' Demons don't do that. Demons try to trick you. They don't _summon_ you."

Varric leaned forward. His heart pounded in his ears again. "It's _summoning_ you?"

She nodded, chewing on her lower lip. "I would think nothing of it, except... I don't think I'm the only one. After the first dream, I overheard some of the other mages talking. That was strange enough, but tonight… it returned to me. It kept saying how I had a duty to protect the mages. I think it's planning something, I think-"

"Shit!" Varric slammed down his mug and Celeste jumped. To Leliana, he said. "So you know that thing that I found out that I was going to tell Cullen but didn't?"

Leliana folded her arms. "Let me guess, mages having dreams."

"Mages _disappearing_ , actually. But this is as good an explanation as any. Think about it, what can you use a phylactery for?"

"A phylactery?" Celeste asked.

Leliana ignored her. "Finding a mage, controlling a mage…"

"Controlling, yeah, but only because you have a _link_ with the mage. I think we've discovered why Blondie didn't break the damned things. He's using them to chat to possible allies."

"Blondie?" Celeste repeated.

"What precisely did this… presence… say to you, Celeste?" Leliana asked.

"Come to me, protect the mages, stop the Circles, use your powers for good… a combination of those sentiments."

Varric hit the table again. That was Blondie alright.

"Did you see what this figure looked like?"

Celeste shook her head again. "No, always in shadows or in the form of a shadow. At… at one stage I thought it was Solana. But that's not possible, is it? She wouldn't be involved in something like this? No. She wouldn't. I know she wouldn't."

"And I believe it's thanks to you that we know that too." Leliana said. She smirked, despite everything.

Celeste's already wide eyes stretched and she seemed to come to some kind of realization. "Phylacteries. That's what was in the room. That's what Solana was supposed to protect. How many? Whose? Who took them?"

"Calm down, Spooky." The nickname rolled off Varric's tongue automatically. "Take a seat."

Celeste blanched, which made the name even more appropriate, but she settled down on the barrel beside his.

Leliana sat too, her fingers steepled, eyes downcast. He was a little frightened of what that might mean.

* * *

It was a bad idea to be walking around so late at night. Samson knew that. He'd learned as much in Kirkwall where he'd become prey more than once. But there was something about Skyhold that made one feel safe. Even one such as he.

The breeze that cut across the courtyard and stung his cheeks was cold, but welcome. It meant freedom.

He'd been assigned quarters, but they were small and cramped and not much different from his cell. Plus, he was sharing with two unimpressed gentlemen who he suspected were one step away from being discharged.

It was the lodgings one got when one was no longer welcome in the barracks, but they wanted you close enough to keep an eye on you. He would have preferred a tent - peaceful nights alone beneath the stars - but he understood Rutherford's reasoning. He wouldn't trust him either.

So he'd stepped out for some fresh air, and now he realised his mistake. He'd wandered down to the stables, taking pleasure in solitude he should have been wary of. It was only when he heard a rustle from near the deserted marketplace that the familiar tension settled between his shoulders.

He told himself he was being stupid. Of course he was being followed. Rutherford had said as much, hadn't he? He'd warned him he'd be watched. Only, he'd never spotted anyone before. He scanned the dark stalls. Was that armour glinting beneath one of the awnings? He laughed at himself when he remembered that shop sold weapons and shields.

Still, best head back.

He made for the stairs he knew led up to the kitchens. That in itself was risky; it wouldn't do to be caught poking around the kitchens late at night either. But compared with the thought of walking back past those stalls-

Something slammed into the base of his skull. Old instincts took over. He jabbed backwards with his elbow, even as his head spun. But whoever his assailant was, they sidestepped, yanking him around to drive a gauntleted fist into his chin. He stumbled backwards, hitting into another armoured body.

Metal-clad hands clamped his arms behind him and he could see his first assailant. Square jaw, tousled black hair, a sneer to rival the worst of the Carter. Samson's practised eyes took in possible weaknesses. The man wasn't wearing a helmet, although the rest of him was in full Inquisition armour. He had a sword at his side. Bad sign. He wouldn't have brought something sharp along if he didn't plan to use it.

But he didn't go for his sword. He took three steps forward, then, eyes meeting Samson's, he lifted his leg and kneed him in the groin.

The world exploded into stars, white-hot pain wiped every thought from Samson's mind. He reached for the part of him that clung to survival, that scrabbled for it like a sewer rat, but it had dissolved. His knees gave in as another fist pounded into his face.

"This is for Zaben." _Smack_. "This is for Reisad." _Smack._ "This is for Dorvol." _Smack_. "And this is for Methra". _Crack._

The impact sent Samson's head back into the man behind him. Fresh pain blossomed from his nose. His entire face was on fire. And there was blood - he tasted iron as it leaked into his mouth - wet against his face.

The assailant looked down at him. "Commander Cullen thinks you can be redeemed. He's wrong. No one comes back from what you did. No one deserves to."

Another knee, this time to his stomach. Samson crumpled forward, choking, as the man behind him let go. And then his face was being pushed forward into the dirt. He heard the unmistakable sound of steel being drawn.

This was how he would die. Finally, after everything. He closed his eyes and whimpered.

"So this is what the great General Samson comes to, eh?" The man who'd been holding his arms kicked him in the side. "Pathetic."

"There's nothing great about him. Look at him. He's not a fighter. Nothing more than Corypheus's dog, ordering others to die."

Samson opened his mouth to protest, but how could he?

 _Maddox, Maddox standing in the Temple of Dumat. Go. We will slow them. The air already thick with smoke, the Inquisition less than ten minutes away. A decision, and no time in which to make it. Go, Maddox said. And it was go or face Corypheus's wrath. Go, let them die, or stay and risk the Inquisition finding the armour, capturing him, torturing him for secrets. So he went._

Another kick to his side brought him back to himself. "You got nothing to say for yourself, dog?"

A pool of blood was spreading out from where his cheek was mushed into the ground. It was thick and black in the dim light, like corruption. "If ya gonna kill me, get it over with," he said.

He was tired, tired of this world, tired of pain.

But the man grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and yanked him to his feet. "Oh, I'm going to kill you." His face was inches from Samson's. "And then I'm going to have my way with that pretty girl of yours."

"I have no girl," he said, the words thick with blood.

"You sure about that? Kitchen wench, blonde hair, likes conjugal visits…"

 _Celeste._ His stomach turned to ice. _Maker, no…_

"Jang…" the other cautioned.

Samson had to force the words out. "She's not my girl. Never will be. You are mistaken."

'But you care for her," the man laughed hollowly. "You care for her like I cared for Methra, and that's enough."

He pushed Samson backwards, and Samson struggled to breathe. His knees knocked into something, and then he was pushed back further and further. The smell of mildew and algae. He was hanging over the old well.

"How long do you think it will take you to die down there?" the man whispered. "I hear drowning's a terrible way to go. But maybe the water isn't deep enough, maybe you'll starve."

He didn't care, the threats were meaningless. There was only one thing on his mind. Celeste. He couldn't let them touch her, not because of him. The one bright thing in his putrid existence, the one shining moment of happiness in a dull and miserable life. No. They would not hurt her.

He went limp and whimpered again. A dog playing dead. The man laughed and readjusted his grip, probably with the intention of pushing Samson down the well. But this dog could bite. With every bit of strength left in him, he launched himself to the side. The man's grip slipped and Samson barreled in the direction of the market.

He only needed to get to one of the stalls, grab a weapon. The other man cried out, making a grab for him, but he managed to evade.

He fell upon the weapon rack. Empty! And the table too. His breath came in rapid gasps. He ducked just in time to avoid another blow to the head from 'Jang'. He grabbed the man by the calves and tugged. He fell backwards in a clatter of armour. Samson scuttled back under the table. _Something_ , there had to be _something_ he could use to defend himself. He tried to ignore the pain in his ribs and face.

An old practice dummy lay on its side, pressed between the weapon rack and the stone wall of the fortress. It wasn't much but-

"Get out here, you mongrel!" Jang's sword pierced down through one of the slats in the table, narrowly missing Samson's head. He shimmied backwards, just as it came through again where he had been a moment ago. He dived for the dummy, yanking out a handful of rusty arrows. They'd have to do. Jang came towards him, yelling as he slashed the air with his sword. His movements were erratic. Rutherford would be ashamed. Samson thrust the dummy in front of him. Hay and lambswool flew as Jang slashed open its stomach. As he brought his sword down, Samson shoved off the wall, lurched forward and thrust up. He closed his eyes as the rusty arrows plunged up, right through Jung's chin.

Jung screamed, careening backwards, buying Samson time to get free of the stall, to run back towards the main gates.

But the other man snagged him, slammed him against the frame of another stall. He drove his fist into Samson's side again, and Samson heard his ribs crack as he yelped. The strength this man had, he could only be a Templar. He too had foregone a helmet. His bright blue eyes shone in the night.

"What you did to the Order is unforgivable," he said. "And you will die for it."

His fingers closed around Samson's throat and he lifted him off the ground so his feet were dangling. Jang was still screaming behind them, clattering from side to side, trying to get the arrows free. Samson couldn't breathe, and though he struggled, though he wriggled and kicked, this man was far too strong. Darkness closed in from the sides of his vision.

Would _he_ hurt Celeste when Samson was gone?

"Please," Samson rasped. He didn't want mercy for himself, but for her. If only he could get the words out, if only he could find enough air to tell this man he had nothing to do with her.

The man smiled wickedly.

And then his face exploded.

Samson fell to the ground, the impact sending a shock up from his knees. He clasped at his throat, choking, heaving. He knew better than to relax until he found the source of this unexpected development. He scanned the shadows.

Up on the battlements, a figure with a bow. Lithe, probably elven. _Who?_

"Ser Samson!" This voice not from the elf, but from the stairs. Another shadowy figure was rushing down, towards him. "Samson, are you alright?"

Who was this man? Samson didn't recognise him. He was young and thin, from Highever by the sounds of it. He fell to his haunches beside Samson. Air whistled through his teeth. "Ay, they really got you good, didn't they?"

"Who are you?"

"Your saviours clearly. We're supposed to be watching you, making sure you don' get up to mischief. Shouldn't have given us the slip, should ya?"

"Given you the…" He was still struggling to breathe, let alone think. Cullen's men. The ones he'd said would be watching. "It wasn't my intention."

"Yeah, yeah. Well, lesson learned? Let's get you to the healer."


	75. Knotted ties

Leliana made a humming sound. It was the first she'd made in what felt like ages. Celeste had almost nodded off to sleep waiting for her to say something. Varric had pulled out a quill and started jotting notes on a scrap of parchment.

Leliana rose and tapped her lower lip. "When I determined that our friend had help from the Grey Wardens, I sent people out to do some checking."

Varric set down his quill. "You're not serious? Wardens? Really? Andraste's ass."

Celeste wanted to ask who their friend was, but chose to keep quiet.

Leliana pulled a sheet of parchment out from a pile on her desk and handed it to Varric. There was an entry circled, but the words themselves made no sense to Celeste. _Griffons stand plaidweave quid._

Varric squinted at it. His eyes moved up and down the page, taking in the other entries. Then he nodded and handed it back to Leliana. "I take it you have more to go on?"

She nodded. "Mages aren't the only ones disappearing."

"Oh shit," Varric said.

"My thoughts precisely."

They both fell silent again. Varric shook his head and muttered. Leliana paced.

"What would make both Wardens and mages disappear?" Celeste ventured.

"Well, Spooky, last time disappearing Wardens got involved with magic it was an army of demons," Varric said.

Celeste pulled the blanket tighter around herself. It smelled vaguely of perfume, probably Leliana's. "Whatever it is, it's anti-Circle," she said. "Maybe it's not so bad."

"Speaks the maleficar," Leliana said.

Celeste's insides jolted, but while Leliana was intimidating, her dream was still fresh in her mind. "The Circles are what made me what I… am." She'd been about to say _was_ , but that would be untrue. She'd forever be a maleficar. It's not something you recovered from… just something you stopped tapping into. She swallowed. "They say… they say that the next Divine will likely restore the Circles."

Leliana's eyes narrowed. "What does that have to do with Grey Wardens?"

"I don't know, but maybe whoever we're dealing with… maybe this is about the next Divine."

"It's not," Leliana said.

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because if they were targeting the next Divine they'd be here, not luring people away from here."

"Why here?" Celeste pressed.

Leliana's lips formed a thin line. Her gaze dropped to her hands.

Varric chuckled.

When Celeste looked at him, he was smiling. "It's you, isn't it? You're the next Divine."

Leliana shook her head. "Not anymore."

"Not anymore? What does that mean?" Varric asked.

Her eyes met his. "It means I declined."

The dwarf's brow puckered. "You declined? May I ask _why_? I thought it would be perfect for you. Power, spies, righteous fury. And nice shoes. I'm willing to bet the Divine gets nice shoes."

Leliana did not seem impressed with his comments, and it was clear she wasn't going to answer.

"But you said that they'd target the next Divine here," Celeste prompted.

Leliana nodded. "Cassandra is set to take my place. She will do a fine-"

Varric surged to his feet. "The Seeker? As Divine? I… must have had more wine than I thought."

Celeste's stomach felt sour. Cassandra was known to be traditional. While she no doubt had a good heart, she'd definitely reestablish Circles.

"Who else knows this?" Varric asked. "Is it possible Blondie found out? Because I think our girl here might have a point. Solana's out there training an army." He pointed in the general direction of the courtyard. "And if that army is being led away, being joined with Wardens… we need to tell the Inquisitor."

Leliana sighed. "That's the other thing."

Varric raised his eyebrows.

"The Inquisitor is, well, there's no easy way to say this. I don't know where he is."

Varric sank back into his chair. " _You_ don't know where he is? Well, that's not good."

She held up a hand. "I know what you're going to suggest: that he's been kidnapped or drawn into this plot. I assure you, that is not the case. He… chose to disappear."

"Come again?"

"The official story is that he's in the Frostback Basin. He arrived, made contact with the local Avaar and had some success digging up information on Inquisitor Ameridan. All the official reports say he's still there. Even Scout Harding, who I can usually rely on to be honest, has made mention of him in her updates."

"So if everyone says he's there…"

Her mouth quirked. " _My_ sources tell me they haven't seen him in weeks. His latest missions, the ones Harding is so thrilled to inform us about? My people report that they're the work of the Bull's Chargers. I can only assume that the Inquisitor chose to take a… vacation, for want of a better term. And he's got some of _his_ people in on it. Usually I'd be thrilled but…"

"Yeah, he has some timing." Varric dropped his head into his hands. "Alright, so we likely have Wardens building an army of mages. Or is it mages building an army of Wardens?"

"Likely it's our _friend_ building an army consisting of both," Leliana said.

"Right." Varric's voice raised in pitch. "And no Inquisitor. We can't tell the Seeker because she'll get the Chantry involved the instant she hears the word phylactery. That's probably a full minute before she has our mages locked up for being susceptible to dream whispers. Although that's maybe not a bad idea."

"Hey!" Celeste said.

Varric turned his attention to her. "Now that I think of it, we probably shouldn't even be discussing this with you here. How do we know he can't listen in?"

"Varric." Leliana's voice was level. "If I could listen in to conversations simply by having a mage's phylactery, I wouldn't need spies."

He grunted, but he seemed satisfied with that. "So, what do we do?"

Leliana steepled her fingers again. Celeste was worried this might mean another half hour of silence. Surprisingly, the spymaster smiled. "We need to solve this quietly. That means we send a small team. A very small team. A team with... expertise." Her focus rested on Celeste and her heart lurched. She didn't want to be sent away from Skyhold, not now Ren was here. But Leliana said only, "I'd like you to play along with this shadow. You will need to be careful not to let on what you know. Can you do that?"

Celeste squared her shoulders. "I can control myself in the Fade."

She was grateful her self-doubt didn't leak into her voice.

"Good," Leliana said. "We need to find out where it wants you to go. And preferably _when_. The timeline is important. Maybe try to delay… see how desperate it is."

"Alright." Celeste's mouth went dry at the thought of it. "I'll do that. I'll also try to… I'll let you know if I hear things from the other mages."

"That would be helpful, but be subtle."

"Of course."

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Varric's eyes slid to Leliana. "You always this popular?"

Before she had a chance to answer, the scout arrived panting. Leliana stood. "Report!"

It couldn't be an attack already, could it? Celeste cursed bringing Ren here. She'd thought it would be _safe_. Now, once again, the fortress was likely the target of some conspiracy.

The scout gulped in air. "It's Samson. Some of Cullen's men attacked him. He's been taken to the infirmary. Thought you'd want to know."

* * *

Samson stared at his hand in front of his face. He knew it to be his own hand, but it didn't feel like his. It felt disconnected. The lines and wrinkles he'd known his whole life suddenly seemed strange. He blinked to bring it back into focus.

The door burst open and he moved his attention to it. A familiar voice. A blur of silver, Rutherford's clipped voice asking questions. "I instructed you to keep an eye on him."

"Sorry, ser."

"Who was it? Where are they now?"

"Jung and Markem, Ser."

"I hope you had them escorted to the gaol? I will not have this sort of behaviour from men under my command."

"Err. About that…"

A white shape moved passed Rutherford, dashing towards Samson at such a speed that he covered his face with his arms.

"Oh Maker, what did they do to you? Are you all right? Samson?"

This voice he knew too, and his body flushed with warmth. He saw flowers, sunshine… he blinked and lowered his arms.

Celeste gasped, recoiling from him. She reached out a tentative hand towards his face, but paused in mid air as if uncertain where to touch him that it would not hurt.

He tried for a smile. "They got me good, didn't they?"

Rutherford was yelling now, yelling at his men though and not at Samson. But it was annoying because it drowned out Celeste's reply. Samson tried to focus on her, but he was having as much difficulty as he'd had with his hand. Only, instead of looking unfamiliar, she looked ethereal. Her white clothes seemed to glow in the lantern light, fuzzing out around her. Her white clothes… her white… nightdress. She was wearing nothing but a nightdress. It was conservative - buttoned up to her collarbone, with long sleeves - but it was still just a nightdress.

He gawked. It took a good few moments before he was aware that she was speaking to him.

"Have they given you anything? Did they send for a healer?"

Someone snorted. It was Rutherford's man, the one who'd brought him here. He stood beside Celeste, peering down at Samson. "They gave him elfroot. Can't you tell? He's off his rocker."

"'s not that bad," he said defensively, although the words slurred. "I'm here."

"Sure you are," the man said.

Samson shook his head. He didn't want to speak to him anyway. The movement sent the infirmary spinning. He had to press his eyes closed until it stopped, but then he was free to look at Celeste again.

"I'm happy you're here," he said.

She took his hand, the one he'd been staring at, and squeezed it.

But why _was_ she here? In her nightdress? Surely Rutherford hadn't roused her?

"Tell me what happened?" she asked.

What happened? It took a surprisingly long while to remember, considering how much his face hurt. "Went out for a walk, didn't I? Then… Inquisition soldiers. Revenge or some such. One for the Red Templar business, one for a… lady soldier." A lady. He'd threatened to hurt Celeste in return, hurt Celeste because of her association with Samson. "You should go."

"Not until I'm sure you're alright."

Samson tugged his hand free. "I said, go. I don't want you here."

Rutherford's man whistled through his teeth again, and Celeste looked to him as if he could offer explanation.

"Go!" Samson shouted, and Celeste jumped. "Get away from me. I don't want… want nothing to do with you. Yeah, you all heard me." He waved his arm for emphasis. Even Rutherford had fallen silent and had turned to look at him. This was how rumours spread wasn't it? He pointed at Celeste. "Get her away from me. I don't want her here. Want nothing to do with her. Nothing."

Celeste shrank into herself, and she flinched with each word. It was like a kick to the stomach seeing that. But it was that or putting her in danger. No ways was he gonna do that. Not again.

No one moved. Then Rutherford stepped forward. "He doesn't know what he's saying, Celeste. It's the-"

"It's not the elfroot." Samson waved his hands again. The violent movement pulled at his side, sending a shock of pain up from what must have been a broken rib. He held onto the pain. It brought with it clarity. He knew the one thing he could say to convince them all he was serious. He pointed at Celeste once more. "She's a maleficar. Get her away from me."

Samson wasn't exactly experienced with women. The women he'd known had either been self-righteous Meredith types or, well, whores and the like who were prone to drama. His heart was slamming and he expected one of two things to happen. Either Celeste, who was staring at him with wide, hurt, eyes would leap to her feet and flee from the room. Or she'd hex his balls off.

She did neither of those things. She rose slowly, and Samson knew every eye in the infirmary followed her. Probably waiting for the hexing, probably hoping for it.

She took two careful steps forward. There was a blanket draped around her shoulders, he saw. She removed it. Her hands shook and his guts twisted. He dared not breathe and it seemed no one else did either.

She reached forward, holding opposite corners of the banket. He was prepared for her to try and smother him, or set the thing on fire. He wasn't prepared for her to drape it around him. It was warm from being beside her body and it smelled good. He wanted to push it away, repeat his declarations. But he lacked the strength.

"I told you to leave," he offered weakly.

"I'm going," she said, voice like ice. "Be well, Ser Samson."

Everything hung in suspension as she turned and left, as if caught in a Gravitic Ring. The moment she was out in the courtyard, the infirmary came alive again. People started talking to each other. Rutherford muttered, "Maker's breath," and hurried out again, removing his surcoat. Samson crumpled in on himself.

He let out a breath. It came out a sob. Maker, let them all not have noticed it, or let them think it was due to his physical pain. His chest hurt so bad that it drowned out the pain in the rest of him.

* * *

Mist swirled around Cullen's feet as he headed back to his office after his dawn drills. Gooseflesh rose on his arms as his muscles stiffened in response to the chill. An unfamiliar sensation, and one he was not fond of, but he'd given his surcoat to Celeste the night before and he wasn't about to go pounding on her door for it back before the sunrise.

He'd roused his men early to break the news about Jung and Markem. It had been a difficult thing, to be suitably mournful about their deaths and to balance this with a lecture about what a _waste_ it was, and how Samson was on _their side_ now and any grievances for the past should be set aside, no matter how difficult it might be.

Jung had always been a bit of a fire mine waiting to explode. Cullen regretted not keeping a better watch on him after he lost his partner in the Arbor Wilds campaign. Markem, on the other hand, had been a good soldier, an ex-Templar, disciplined. For him to do something like this...

As he mounted the stairs to his office, he noticed the door ajar. His stomach churned as possibilities raced through his mind. Cassandra there to lecture him about the events of the night before, Solana there to tell him she was leaving Skyhold and taking Alise with her, Cassandra having discovered the phylacteries missing, Josephine having discovered his lyrium theft… _no, stop. Paranoia, a side effect of the lyrium._ Still, it was with caution that he entered his office.

A man stood staring out of one of the windows. He turned when he heard Cullen enter, and grinned.

Cullen's trepidation melted away and he found himself returning the man's smile. His skin was darker than when Cullen had last seen him - the tattoos on his chin now almost blending into his stubbled beard - and he was broader of shoulder. But despite his difficult assignment, he still radiated warmth.

"Rylen!" Cullen shook his hand and patted him on the back. "I didn't know you were due back from the Western Approach."

"Heh, well, they asked me to replace you when you took your little sojourn, didn't they? Unfortunate for them it takes near on a month to get here from the Approach. So I suppose it's my turn for a holiday."

So the Inquisitor hadn't had all that much faith Cullen would return, despite how he'd made it seem. Cullen couldn't find it in him to be annoyed. It was good to see his second in command again. A friend.

"When did you get in?" Cullen asked. He hadn't seen any horses in the courtyard.

"Late last night, but I was informed you had your hands full." Rylen leaned back against the wall. "Something about Samson attacking someone?"

Cullen snorted. Amazing how the gossip mill always twisted things. "Someone attacking Samson, in fact."

"In his cell?"

"Eh, no."

Rylen narrowed his eyes. "Samson's not in a cell?"

Rylen had worked with the Templars in Kirkwall, but long after Samson had been thrown out of the Order. Cullen wasn't sure if the two of them had ever met. If they had, it would have been when Samson was nothing but a vagabond.

"I've asked Samson to assist with training the recruits. If anyone knows our weaknesses it would be him."

Cullen waited for the contradiction, watching Rylen's face. Cassandra had made a noise like a kettle about to boil over, and then proceeded to launch a barrage of questions. But Rylen simply tilted his head to the side, seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded. "I take it your men are not too happy with this arrangement?"

"Only two of them." Cullen sighed. "That I know of. Hopefully their fates will serve as a warning to any others." When Rylen didn't say anything, he added, "You think me mad."

"Oh no, not at all. I'm just surprised Samson would help us so willingly. You are certain he doesn't have some ulterior motive?"

Cullen couldn't help but smile. "Oh, he has a motive." Rylen raised his eyebrows. "A girl."

Rylen laughed and shook his head. "Is that all it took? Well we should have sent one of those into the Wilds instead of soldiers. Would have been cheaper, let me tell you."

Cullen laughed too. It felt good to laugh. "Jokes aside, I knew Samson before all of this. When he was a Templar in Kirkwall. We roomed together. He was a good man then. Kind. I… didn't do as much for him as perhaps I could have. I'm not certain if he can be redeemed, but… everything that's happened these last years… it would be nice to believe that something can come back from the brink?"

"Yeah," Rylen agreed. And looking into his face, Cullen could see that he understood as few would. He'd been there to clean up the mess in Kirkwall.

His gaze didn't leave Cullen as he said, "Talking of… we hear strange rumours out in the Wastes. I was hoping you could clear this one up for me? I heard you married, the Hero of Ferelden no less, had a child, which was Blighted _and_ Tranquil… and was cured with blood magic. Which of those things are real and which ones are false?"

"Solana didn't use blood magic," he said. Rylen eyes widened. Cullen dropped his voice. "She used a demon. But I'd rather that wasn't common knowledge. And no, I did not approve."

"A demon?" Rylen repeated, voice equally soft. "You can't be serious?"

"I wish that I wasn't."

Rylen clapped him on the back. "Well, in that case, drinks on me."

"I can't," Cullen protested. "It's first thing in the morning. I have work. I'm on duty."

"You're also the boss around here. Unless I am, in which case consider it an order. We should probably get that cleared up."

It would have worried Cullen, except he knew that Rylen wasn't the sort to jockey for authority. No doubt he'd report to Cassandra and be given a few weeks of leave before heading back to the Western Approach.

Cullen pinched between his eyes and sighed. He _could_ do with a drink.

* * *

"Well, would you look at that," Leliana said suddenly.

Varric glanced up from the chess board. "Nightingale?"

The spymistress stared over the balcony. Varric rose and followed her gaze. His eyes itched and he struggled to focus. Leliana had insisted that instead of going and getting a few good hours sleep, they should play chess. It would help them develop a strategy, apparently. So far all Varric was developing was a headache.

Varric didn't see anything of note, except that Cullen and another man were heading towards the tavern.

"Bit early for a drink, isn't it?" he asked, not understanding her interest.

"That's Cullen's replacement."

"Replacement? Why's the Seeker replacing him?"

She shook her head. "Cassandra isn't. But… this solves a little problem I was having."

She knocked over Varric's king. "Check mate."

"Maker's balls." Varric sighed. "I don't know whether you're being dramatic, cryptic, or just made me look up to distract me."

"Why not all three?" she asked.

* * *

 _A/N If you're unsure who Rylen is, he's the dude who gives you some quests at Griffon Wing Keep. If you chat to him, you find out he was one of the Templars from Starkhaven who came in to help with Kirkwall after the Anders Incident and that he became friends with Cullen and is now his second in command. I've taken liberty with pretty much everything else about him here._

 _Things are about to get interesting ;)_


	76. Look to the sky

There was one blissful moment upon waking that Samson was aware of being wrapped in a warm blanket that smelled vaguely of Celeste.

Then the pain crashed down on him. He swore, rolling onto his back, as memories flooded back of the night before. Rutherford's men and then… and then Celeste.

"Andraste's holy arse." Her face when he'd said those things.

It had been necessary. He needed to show them all he didn't care for her. But if he'd been more himself perhaps he could have thought of another way.

He needed to apologise.

But if he apologised, wouldn't that undo any good he'd done?

No, he needed to apologise. Screw the consequences.

"Awake are you?"

He opened his eyes. Light too bright. An old woman bending over him. She prodded his ribs and he yelped.

"We mended your face best we could, but your bones are going to take a while."

"What bones?"

"Two ribs and, of course, the nose."

Yeah, the nose. Wasn't like it had been a prize one in the first place. Wasn't like he had any need for vanity. And who had he been fooling anyways? Even before last night, there was no chance of…

Maker's balls, if there'd been no chance of anything why did he feel so shit about it? Eh?

He hadn't felt this bad since just after they took him off the red stuff. And he'd been dying then. She'd saved him. She'd risked herself to save his pathetic arse. No wonder he loved her. She was so…

 _Shit._

He pressed himself to a sitting position, despite protests from his bruised muscles. "Thank you for your efforts," he said to the old healer.

"Now hold on, you shouldn't be moving about just yet."

"Have to." He was shirtless, he realised. He looked around for his clothes. Didn't see them. Didn't matter. He gathered the blanket to his chest and stood.

"Ser, I must insist that you-" The healer, a diminutive old woman, tried to stand between him and the door, but he pushed past her.

It was like walking on the deck of a ship. The ground kept moving beneath his feet, threatening to tip him over. He marched out into the courtyard regardless, squinting against the sun as he tried to estimate the time of day.

There weren't many folks about. The Hero wasn't doing her drills yet. Early, but not very early. Probably just about the right time.

* * *

It was always cold in Skyhold's recesses, but today it felt far worse. Today the cold didn't just come from the outside, but from Celeste's insides.

A plot afoot, a new Divine who distrusted mages, a responsibility beyond anything she'd ever been entrusted with before. And Samson.

She shouldered open the pantry door, arms laden with supplies, and willed herself to think of something else. Think of Ren.

What if the shadow and its army attacked Skyhold? Should she send him back?

The door clicked shut behind her. Ren wanted to learn swordplay. Samson had seemed willing to teach him. What had changed? He knew from the start what she was.

It didn't matter. It was for the best. It…

"Celeste?"

She jumped. A sack of flour on top of the pile she was carrying teetered, fell to the floor and exploded, sending a spray of white up towards the figure lurking in the dark back corner of the pantry.

Samson.

He was pressed against the wall, clutching a blanket to his otherwise bare torso. His face was still a mess. His cheek was blue, his brow sported a deep gash. The entire area around his nose was swollen and red and his lip was split.

"Sorry," he said, gaze dropping to the flour.

"What are you doing here?"

"I... "

"Where are your clothes?"

"The infirmary, I think." He swallowed.

"And you're not in the infirmary because...?"

His eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at her. "I needed to see you. To apologise. Explain."

She knelt down to begin gathering the flour. Magic couldn't make it usable again, but at least it could clean it up. With a sweep of her hand, she cleared a section of the floor. "You don't have to explain, you were dosed up with elfroot."

"Yeah. But, that's not it." He dropped to his knees too. "I… listen, you didn't deserve any of that, alright? I want you to know that." He tried to scoop up flour with his hands, but he only managed to spread it out further. "I want you to know I don't think of you like that, like that word."

"A part of you clearly does." She didn't want excuses, so why was she asking for them? It would have been easier just to let him say his apology and be on his way.

"No, that's not true."

She cleared another area of floor. "They say that of drunks, you know? They say how they truly feel once they've had too much liquor."

"I don't truly feel that. Please believe me." He reached forward and grabbed her hand. Flour drifted down to the ground again like fine snow, freed from her spell.

His hand was warm, his fingers rough and calloused. His touch wiped all other thought from her mind. Her heart started hammering.

"Those men last night, they said… they said they'd have their way with you, after I was gone. They wanted to hurt you, because they knew I… I cared for you."

Now her pulse thrilled through her, humming in her ears. His eyes were serious. She felt light-headed.

"I'd never want any harm to come to you due to an association with me." He concentrated on the floor again. "That's the truth of it. But I feel awful. Like… like I can't breathe. Like there's a fist being driven into my chest. And my stomach's a mess. I thought that I'd feel good about protecting you. But I don't. I made a hash of it, like everything else." He dropped her hand and she immediately felt the loss. "I don't need you to forgive me, I'm not here to ask for that. It's just… well... point is, you deserve better than to be called maleficar in front of everyone like that, and embarrassed and rejected. After everything you've done for me."

He fell silent, finally. He still didn't look at her, but he handed her the blanket.

As his hands came away from his chest, she sucked in air. The blanket hadn't just been hiding the bruised ribs from last night's fight. His chest was covered in scars of varying shapes, varying sizes. Noticing her gaze, he wrapped his arms around himself. "Shoulda found a shirt, sorry."

"Where did…" her mouth was dry. "How did those…"

"Not here, if that's what you're thinking. Turns out Inquisition treats you well provided you co-operate. I mean, they roughed me up a little but nothing that won't heal. I… eh… well I should go."

He climbed to his feet, gaze still downcast.

"Was it Corypheus?" she asked, also rising.

"Little bit," he said. "Little bit him, little bit Kirkwall, little bit… before." He glanced up at her nervously.

She didn't know what to say. "I suppose last night gave you a few more?" _Stupid._

He smiled, best he could with that split lip. "Yeah, possibly."

"I'm sorry."

"Now why are _you_ sorry? Last I checked, you didn't come at me with a gauntlet."

"No, but if I hadn't asked Cullen to set you free…"

He shook his head. "This isn't on you. None of it. You hear?" He advanced towards her, shambling more than walking. "You are…"

She waited for him to say what she was.

Eventually he simply shook his head. He continued past her, towards the door. "Thank you for everything, Celeste. I mean it. It's been truly-"

"Wait."

He'd almost reached the door and she knew that once he opened it, that was goodbye. She wasn't ready for that. She searched for something to say to change his mind, to convince him that there was a way they could continue to see each other.

"Ren," she blurted. "You said you'd train him."

He paused, but didn't look at her.

"He hasn't stopped asking about lessons since we saw you training. His mind's set on it."

"I'll have to ask the Commander," he said.

"Of course."

"You sure it's something you want? I'm not exactly a role model."

"Long as you promise not to get him hooked on red lyrium." The joke was a gamble. She didn't know what else to do to lighten the mood. As she said it, she realised it might be the exact wrong thing to say.

But Samson smiled. "Just the blue stuff, eh?"

She picked up his implication. Ren _had_ seemed very interested in his shield.

"He won't be a Templar," she said.

"No, course he won't. Templars won't even be around when he's old enough, Maker willing."

"Maker willing," she repeated.

She watched him leave, debating whether she should risk helping him out. Each movement seemed painful, but he'd made his wishes clear. Half carrying him back to the infirmary wouldn't exactly send the message that he wanted nothing to do with her.

After he was gone and she was left alone in the dim room, standing in the middle of a pile of flour, thoughts of the shadow came back to her.

 _No Templars, Maker willing._

* * *

For Solana, the best part about staying in the guest quarters was that they overlooked the garden. Bird song and the smell of herbs would drift through the window, over Alise's cot and she'd stare up at the curtains moving in the breeze and giggle. The cot was Orlesian - something Josephine produced from _somewhere_ in the stores. It was intricately carved and rocked gently from side to side at the slightest push.

The Circle had taught Solana never to waste magic, never to use precious mana on menial tasks. But now she knew they were only afraid. Magic was like a muscle, the more you used it, the more there was to use. Now she gave no thought to sending tendrils of energy across the room to rock her child back to sleep.

No such luck. Alise's giggles turned into worried whimpers.

So, Solana lifted her heavy limbs and rubbed her eyes. The guest bed was everything she could have asked for - a soft duvet, expensive sheets. But it was not _her_ bed, it was not _Cullen_ 's bed. She did not sleep well in it.

"Alright, love, I'm here. I'm here." She leaned over the cot and scooped Alise out.

She wouldn't settle. Solana tried to feed her, but she shook her head from side to side. Whatever had upset her, it didn't seem to be anything physical.

Holding the infant to her chest, Solana tugged on fresh robes over her night dress. A walk in the garden then, that usually calmed her when little else would.

When Solana closed the door to their quarters behind her, she was so absorbed in trying to straighten her robes without dropping her squirming daughter that she didn't notice the person leaning against the wall until they moved.

"Have a moment?"

Solana jumped. Leliana stood with her arms folded, her hood up. Solana's heart kicked and started thumping hard. She hadn't spoken to Leliana since… since…

Alise kicked out and screamed, loud enough to hurt Solana's ears."Ah, can it wait?"

"I'll walk with you," Leliana said.

Solana swallowed but inclined her head.

She bounced Alise gently as they moved down the stairs, the baby's screeching echoing off the stone. She was about to reiterate that this probably wasn't the best time, when they reached the bottom of the stairs. The garden was empty. One of Leliana's people stood at each entrance.

Solana's breath caught. She twisted to look over her shoulder, half expecting to see another agent following them, blocking the exit.

Leliana held her hands up plaintively. "I only wish to talk. It's about something… sensitive. I'd rather we didn't have any eavesdroppers."

Alise's crying died down as she spotted a bird overhead.

"Let me guess," Solana said, "you want to know what happened to the phylacteries?"

"No, I know what happened to them."

"You do?" Solana had not been expecting that.

"But this _is_ about the phylacteries." Leliana linked her hands behind her back and strode further into the garden. Alise pointed at the bird, breathing rapidly in excitement. Solana followed the spymaster.

She stopped in the centre, beside the old well, as far away from her agents as they could get. Then she turned back to Solana. "I need you to go on a mission."

The idea was so ridiculous that it brought a bubble of laughter up from Solana's chest. "Um, Leliana. I'm not sure you noticed, I'm a mother now. I don't _do_ missions."

The spymaster waved that fact off as if it was of little concern. "We're the Inquisition. We'll get your daughter the best nurse money can buy. She'll be seen to by women who raised kings. Her welfare is not an issue."

"She's _my_ child."

"And she'll still be your child when you return. I need you for this."

Solana shook her head. " can find someone else."

"He's summoning the mages."

 _The mages?_ "Which mages?"

She cursed Leliana's smug expression. "I knew that would get your attention."

"What do you mean _summoning_?"

Leliana advanced until she was so close that Alise could grab a lock of her hair, had she been so inclined and not mesmerised by the sky. "He's using their phylacteries to approach them in their dreams and bid them join his army."

"Army?"

"Army. To attack the next Divine should they choose to bring back the Circles."

 _How did she know all this?_ "Sounds like he might have the right idea," she said facetiously.

"I'm the next Divine."

For a long moment nothing moved. Even Alise was still. Solana realised she was holding her breath. Leliana's gaze dropped down to her feet.

"Would you bring back the Circles?" Solana asked stiffly.

"Never as they were. You trust me, don't you? You _know_ me."

She did. Beneath that hood was a woman who wanted nothing but to make the world a happier place, who had braided flowers into Solana's hair while humming fireside songs, who had believed herself chosen by the Maker.

"I do," she agreed.

"But Anders doesn't." Leliana took a step back. "He only knows me as the calculating spy who would do anything necessary to achieve her goals. He's raising an army and you're training it for him."

"Training it for- oh." Her daily drills. She was teaching the mages to protect themselves, to control their energy, not to wage war. The war was supposed to be _over_.

Solana started walking, pacing, trying to think. "I could stop training them?"

"I've seen what you've accomplished so far. It may be too late."

"Well what if we tell them not to listen to him, tell them the truth?"

"You seem to forget, these are by and large mages from the mage _rebellion_." Leliana folded her arms again. "Besides, if we change anything now, he would get suspicious. If we stand any hope of stopping him, we need to act soon, and quietly."

Alise wriggled again, grasping at a butterfly as if she wanted to be set free to chase it.

"And you want me to stop him?" Solana asked.

"You leaving Skyhold would raise no suspicion. You weren't exactly discreet when you left Cullen."

Solana's stomach twisted at the phrasing. _You left Cullen._ It wasn't that it wasn't true. It just… it just sounded so _final._ "People will think I abandoned my daughter."

"Only until you return victorious and once more the hero."

Solana shook her head and cuddled her writhing child closer.

Leliana pinched the bridge of her nose. "There's more. The Grey Wardens are involved."

Solana searched her face for any trace she was being less than honest in a bid to gain her agreement. "I don't understand, what would they want with phylacteries?"

"That I'm not sure of yet. But I know that Anders is a Warden, so old ties… perhaps there's something there. Point is, you see now why you're the only person we can send. You're a mage, a Warden and-"

"I'm not. I'm not a Warden anymore. I've been… cured of that."

Leliana shook her head. "But not everyone will know that. You haven't received word from Weishaupt at all, have you?"

"No," Solana was forced to admit.

"So for all we know, you're still a Warden Commander. You might be able to order them back, or get them to stop what they're doing. Plus, most importantly of all, you're Anders's friend. You can reason with him, assure him that the Inquisition won't allow the Chantry to hurt the mages again - _something_. If anyone can get through to him, you can."

Solana frowned, "What about Hawke?"

"Hawke is too close to this. He might be like holding a flame to _gaatlock_. You're the only one who can do this."

"You'd have me go to him alone?"

Leliana shook her head again. "Not alone, no. I'll send an agent or two to meet with you on the road."

An agent or two, that was hardly a comfort. "Do you even know where he is?"

"I will soon." Leliana reached out and touched her shoulder, fondly. "Think about it. I've already put in the call for the nurse. She will arrive in two days. I would not leave this longer. The next Divine will be consecrated before the end of next month. I do not imagine he plans to wait long after that to strike."

With that she turned and left. Her agents disappeared from the entrances. Solana stood with Alise as people began filtering into the garden again. She overheard that someone had let off a confusion grenade and they'd all been waiting for it to dissipate. Solana certainly felt like they could have been telling the truth.

* * *

 _The smell of ash filled Celeste's nostrils and panic chased across her skin. The city was burning. Around her, screams. Somewhere in all of this, Ren. She had to find him… she had to get to him… she had to get him to safety._

 _Darkspawn came rushing down the street in a wave of death. She tried to run away, but her legs wouldn't move. They came closer and closer and-_

 _"_ _Celeste!" An alleyway presented itself to her left and she ducked into it._

 _Darkness swallowed her. "Jenine?" she called for her sister._

 _"_ _Celeste, come to me."_

 _Celeste felt her way forward in the dark. And then she realised. She was in the Fade._

 _It was still morning at Skyhold, but as soon as Celeste had finished her duties, she'd sent Ren out to play and made some of the tea she'd once served Solana. She may not even have needed it - she'd been exhausted from the events of the previous night. But better safe, better get this done as soon as possible._

 _Now she paused in the darkness, shivering. The scene beyond the alley was unfolding in all its gory detail. It was difficult to separate herself from it._

 _"_ _Celeste, come to me. Save the mages from destruction. You have the power."_

 _She'd prepared for this. It shouldn't take long. "No more Circles?"_

 _"_ _No more Circles," the whisper confirmed. "No one will have to suffer as we have."_

 _"_ _And no more Templars?"_

 _"_ _None."_

 _"_ _Where do I find you?"_

 _A surge ran through her, like magic. The streets of the burning city melted away and instead she was standing beside a ruin in the middle of a forest. Tall trees encircled it and overhead the stars twinkled._

 _"_ _Look to the sky," the voice said. "Keep to the stars. The dawn will come."_


	77. Brave and bold

Cullen was only a little tipsy by the time they'd climbed up the stairs to the Inquisitor's office. He'd hadn't intended to have more than one drink, but Hawke had been there and he'd looked in need of company. And then Varric had come in and suggested a game of Wicked Grace to cheer him up. Rylen had been keen. Next thing Cullen was ordering another round.

What was one more drink, after all? He had not counted on his empty stomach.

The alcohol had only really hit him when he'd tried to stand. He'd almost fallen over again. Limbs light, head floating. Rylen had rushed to catch him, wrapping an arm around Cullen's waist just before he tipped over.

"We shouldn't see her like this," Cullen said now that they were up in the tower. He was careful to enunciate each word, not to slur.

"I have to report I'm here, just let me do the talking. Smile and look pretty."

"Maker's breath," Cullen grumbled.

The door to Max's quarters was open and afternoon sunlight splashed across the stairs. How long had Cullen been in the tavern? They found Cassandra at the Inquisitor's desk, leaning over the table and scowling at it as if it had personally insulted her.

"Uh, Knight-Captain Rylen reporting for duty, ser," Rylen said as he approached her. Cullen hovered near the top of the stairs, convinced she'd be able to tell with one look how much he'd had to drink.

Cassandra glanced up. "Good."

"Good?" Rylen sounded like he was smiling. "I'm afraid I'm not sure I understand. I was ordered back here when Cullen was away, but he's here now so I assumed there'd be no need for me."

Cassandra straightened, locking her hands behind her back. "Yes, well…" Her eyes moved to Cullen. "Perhaps you should take a seat, Commander."

Had she seen how unsteady he was on his feet?

 _No, no, this was something worse_. "You're dismissing me?" he guessed.

He knew it was paranoia, he knew it had to be. Yet there was a buzzing in his ears, a tingling at the back of his neck. And the memory of how disapproving she'd been when he'd returned. She didn't know the whole story. Maybe if he explained… he bit his tongue.

She sighed. "We think you need… a break."

"A break? What is that supposed to mean?" _Control yourself, don't let the alcohol loosen your tongue._

"Cullen, I'd rather not discuss this in front of Knight-Captain Rylen."

"I am not concerned about what Rylen hears. Tell me what's going on." He advanced towards her. "I've only recently returned from a break, Cassandra. I do not need a _break_."

Her gaze cut past him, to Rylen. "Perhaps you could leave us for a few minutes?"

"Of course," he said. He nodded to Cullen, brow creased with concern, before he turned and went back down the stairs. Cullen heard the door close behind him.

Now they were alone, Cullen's annoyance drained away, leaving only a deep pool of emotion that he had been trying not to fall into for weeks. "Cassandra, you can't take my command from me… please." _It's all that I have left._

She wiped a hand across her eyes, resting the other hand on her hip. "You asked me long ago to watch you and to recommend a replacement if I thought you were… not handling things effectively."

"Is this about Samson?" His voice pitched on the name.

"No, Cullen."

"I don't… I don't understand. When I returned, the Inquisitor welcomed me. Have I not been performing well enough? Is there some aspect of this position that I should be… I'll do better. I assure you, I'll-"

Cassandra held up a hand to silence him. "This is not about your performance, Cullen. And I am not stripping you of your command. I meant what I said, it's a break. That is all. You know I do not pad my meaning with niceties and useless assurances. You need time to recover from the events of the past few months." Louder, she added, "Leliana, you can come out now."

The spymaster slunk out of the Inquisitor's dressing room where she'd clearly been listening in.

"Do you ever walk into rooms like a normal person?" Cullen asked.

Leliana just smiled.

"Commander, Leliana requested permission to 'borrow you'." She sneered at the term. "I have granted it on the Inquisitor's behalf. However, it is your choice whether you accept her mission, or whether you opt to take leave instead. I will not pressure you into this, and you should not let her do so either."

"Thank you, Cassandra," Leliana said sweetly. "I will take it from here."

Cassandra tsked. "Fine, I will be briefing Knight-Captain Rylen. Outside."

Leliana stared after her as she marched off.

Cullen rubbed his temples. "Was all of this really necessary? Could you not have approached me in my office?"

"We both know I wouldn't have found you there. You smell like ale."

He took a step back from her but she laughed. She drifted around the desk, taking in all the paperwork that Cassandra had left there. "I know where he is."

"Anders?"

She nodded. "One of my... _agents_ came back with a lead. I even have a map." She looked up at him again. "So, Commander, what do you think?"

"What? You believe _I_ should go after him?"

"Don't tell me you haven't been itching to since Kirkwall?"

"Me and my wits against Justice?"

"You, your wits, and _a map_ , yes."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I am not sober enough for this discussion."

Leliana smirked at that. "Perhaps this will sober you up. I have a relatively good grasp of what he's intending to do. It involves an army of mages and overthrowing the Chantry."

Ice rushed through him. "What?"

"We have to move fast and quietly. He's using the phylacteries to summon the mages to his side. No doubt he will be watching for an army or some kind of large force. But a single person might be able to move past his defenses."

"The phyla- that's what he's using them for? To build an army?"

She nodded. "For all we know, that's only the beginning of his plans. Someone has to get to him and stop him. There aren't many I'd consider sending on such a dangerous solo mission but-"

"Stop." He held up a hand. His head was spinning. "You're not going to convince me with flattery."

"I'm not trying to flatter you. It's the truth. We have worked together a long time and I know you to be a master strategist and a man of principle. You are skilled with the sword, trained in survival. Plus you're already aware of the situation and of what's at stake. There is also the fact that you will not arouse suspicion. No one would think anything of it if you left Skyhold after everything that's happened."

If he hadn't been feeling so sick to his stomach, he might have appreciated the compliments. As it was, he sank down onto the Inquisitor's chaise. "Andraste preserve us. Solana's been training the mages. I'd wager most of them are from Ferelden." He dropped his head into his palms. "Why didn't I realise? What else would phylacteries be used for?"

He wanted to scream. The lyrium was supposed to make him _better. "_ We should warn the Chantry."

"Or," Leliana said as sat beside him. "You could stop him."

* * *

It was already late in the afternoon when Samson gathered the courage to go speak to Cullen about the events of the previous night. The infirmary had sent him back to his room with a few tonics to speed up recovery and one potion he was meant to take a sip of every time the pain grew unbearable. The lumpy mattress and his numerous bruises made it difficult to sleep. Mostly he'd lain on his back and stared at the roof, watching the shadows change.

When the light changed colour, he knew he'd better go report in.

Walking across the courtyard was an odd experience. He drew everyone's attention and many leaned together to comment. No hope of hiding who he was now. He hesitated at the foot of the stairs up to the battlements where Cullen had his office. He could retreat to his room and wait until the commander summoned him.

Or he could man up and face the music.

The door was ajar and Samson rapped on it gently before Cullen's voice bid him enter.

But Cullen was not at his desk. There was another man sitting going through the paperwork, someone Samson didn't recognise.

"Rylen, meet Samson." Cullen's voice came from the dim part of the room, by the bookshelf. He was facing away from Samson, scanning through the titles. "Samson, meet Rylen. My replacement."

Samson went cold. "Replacement?" The word fell from his mouth before he had a chance to tone it down. "Why are they replacing you?"

His heart started to hammer. What happened to him if Rutherford wasn't around? Would he be imprisoned? Tortured? Traded away? All the horrors he'd imagined locked in his cage came back to him.

It was the new man - Rylen - who answered. "Commander Cullen has some business elsewhere. I believe you'll be helping me train the recruits?"

Samson wasn't sure whether he was serious or baiting him. Before he could decide which, Cullen turned. "Knight-Captain Rylen has been heading our operations out in the Western Approach."

"Ah, you're Griffon Wing Keep?"

Rylen smiled. "That would be me."

"What did you do to deserve that?" Samson regretted the jibe the instant he made it, and he tensed for the response.

But Rylen laughed, turning to Cullen. "He has a point. What _did_ I do to deserve that?"

Cullen bristled. "If you're implying it was some sort of punishment, I assure you that was not the case. You were determined to be the best man for the job. Your command experience plus-"

Rylen held up a hand. "Cullen, stop, we were joking."

"Oh." Cullen frowned. "Forgive me."

Samson stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked at his feet. "Anyways, I, uh, I imagine you'd want to see me after last night. Sorry for missing the drills this morning. They doped me up with some tonic or some such."

"I saw the state you were in. It's any wonder you're standing here now," Cullen said.

Everything still hurt, but Samson would be damned if he let them see. "Well, I wanted to… express my regret, I suppose. Those men were bad apples. But I did not intend to kill them. I'm hoping you can believe that."

"I do." Cullen's expression was surprisingly open. "I received a report from my people. They said you were not to blame and were acting in self defence."

"Oh, good." Samson shifted from foot to foot, then stopped himself. Way to avoid looking suspicious. "I, there was something else. A minor matter."

"Well speak, man, what is it?"

"Celeste's little one, you've met him?"

"No, but I know of the boy. What about him?" Cullen brought his hands to rest on his sword hilt. It was a tell that he was nervous, a familiar motion that Samson remembered back from Kirkwall days. It was somewhat encouraging.

"Scrawny isn't he? Thing is, he wants to learn the sword. I think it could be good for the boy, the physical training and, perhaps, a good skill to have. Celeste asked me to teach him. I wanted to know if that might be alright. Obviously, wouldn't be anything that would interfere with my other duties, and if it's too tangential to what you intended for-"

"I think it's an excellent idea," Cullen said.

"You do?" The enthusiasm surprised Samson, but once again he could find nothing insincere in Cullen's expression.

Cullen nodded. "I remember when I was his age, you couldn't keep me away from the training dummy. Although, believe me, my siblings tried." He gave a lopsided smile, gaze going distant. "I'd of course turn it into a game of templars and apostates. My little sister _hated_ playing the mage, but it was that or leave me alone and she couldn't do that." He chuckled wistfully. "Although, it's Knight-Captain Rylen's permission you'll need."

Samson swallowed down his pride and turned to the man, drawing a breath to ask again. Rylen smiled. "Yeah, why not. Long as it's somewhere public."

"Of course," Samson said, although he riled at the implication he might do anything untoward if left alone with a child.

"Yes, fair point," Cullen said. "We don't want the boy getting in the way of the next assassin someone sends for you."

As soon as Samson left the room, Rylan asked, "So, Celeste's the girl I take it?"

"The very same. She's a good woman, a friend. And from what I can tell, she welcomes his advances."

"Widowed?" A fair question considering she had a child.

"Mage." Cullen sat down carefully on the edge of his reading chair, mindful of the teetering books he would knock over if he leaned back too far.

"Does the southern Chantry not take children from mage mothers?" Rylen asked.

Cullen sighed. Some part of him knew he shouldn't say much more, but the alcohol still in his system was overpowering that voice.

"Oh, they do. Celeste escaped the Circle, with the help of my- of Solana, during the Blight."

"Ah. The apostate and the ex-Templar. That's something out of an Orlesian Opera," Rylen said.

"Maleficar," Cullen added, because it was all the more ironic when you knew that.

Rylen's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open and Cullen knew he'd said too much. "You have maleficarum at Skyhold? What else are you harbouring? Darkspawn?"

"Do Grey Wardens count?"

Rylen blinked at him. _Maker's breath_ , he really was saying too much. He didn't much care to keep the Warden secret, he bore no love for the Order now that he knew what they made their new recruits do, what happened to any children they bore. Still, he held his tongue. Revealing sacred secrets was a decision best made sober.

He brought the conversation back to Celeste. "I made it sound worse than it is. It's true, she knows blood magic. But she was brought into a scheme beyond her understanding when she was young and naive. She claims to have used the power once, and only once, against her tormentor. The… the father of her child. The next time she used that magic, it was to save Solana's life."

"The father of her child?" Rylen prompted, leaning forward with interest.

Cullen swallowed. Now he was really uncomfortable. He scratched the back of his neck. "Yes, uh, a Templar. I regret to say I knew him. Although I certainly didn't know what he was doing with the mages in his care. The very thought sickens me."

"You knew hi- She's one of Kinloch's? One of _those_ blood mages?"

Something clicked in the back of his mind. Those mages. The mages with the missing phylacteries. He felt suddenly nauseous.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "We should get back to work. I have a few more reports I'd like to discuss with you."

Rylen's brow furrowed, but he nodded. "Of course."

* * *

It took three days to properly brief Rylen and hand over all of his duties, but when Cullen rode out of Skyhold's gates, he knew he'd done the right thing.

The phylacteries were his responsibility. With them, Anders, Justice or their allies could use blood magic to force the mages to commit any number of unspeakable acts. The image of Celeste being used that way terrified him, and not just because he'd grown fond of the maleficar. How many other powerful mages were there at Skyhold now, waiting for their power to be tapped?

Cullen hadn't gone to see Solana. He reasoned that doing so would raise too many questions. And if he saw Alise… He worried he might change his mind. So he hadn't said goodbye. But when Leliana had seen him off, he'd given her a letter. She'd been repeating the directions for the inn where he was to meet her agent with the map, when he'd slipped the scroll into her grasp. "If something happens to me… Solana. Please."

It was easier to say sorry than it was to say goodbye.


	78. Blinded

The inn was a lot busier than Cullen would have imagined. It was a good sign, he supposed, having people out on the roads again. Still, he'd hoped for somewhere quiet after two days of travelling. He took off his coat and scanned the crowds.

He had a good idea of what to look for. Leliana had told him that her agent would meet him at an inn a day's ride north of Val Chevin, that she was a redhead and Cullen would know her when he saw her. He did indeed know her redheaded agent, an elven woman who would spend weeks at a time outside of Skyhold. What was her name? Charger? No, Charter. He was relatively certain that was it. Although she probably went by some other code name while out in the field.

He didn't see her as he headed towards the bar. He'd made good time, so it was possible he was here early. He could have a drink and wai-

A man moved aside and he spotted a flash of red hair. It wasn't Charter, that he knew immediately. This hair was long and wild like… no.

He walked towards her in a daze, still hoping he was wrong, distracted, addled by lyrium. She hadn't noticed him. She leaned over the bar, talking animatedly to the barman. There was no doubt. It was Solana.

He stood frozen, people brushing past him, the entire world moving around him.

And then she saw him. She blanched, her lips fell open, all good humour disappeared from her face. "Cullen?"

His name broke the spell, he closed the distance between them, shaking his head. "What are you doing here?" he asked under his breath, his tone was harsh but he didn't care. "Where's Alise?"

"Alise is at home." Solana searched his face. "She meant you, didn't she? Maker, Leliana." She turned away, slumped over with her head in her hands.

He sighed. "Let me guess, you were sent here to meet with one of her _agents_?"

Solana scrubbed her face. "You may as well return to Skyhold, I'm sure your troops will miss you."

His annoyance battered against his chest. "What, and let you continue alone?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but he interrupted her. "Don't give me that Hero of Ferelden speech. If either of us should return it's you. Who did you leave Alise with? Celeste?"

"No. Leliana ordered a nurse from Orlais."

"Of course she did." Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. How long had it taken for the nurse to arrive? Leliana must have been planning this for some time.

They fell into a moody silence. The barkeep brought Solana a drink she must have ordered before Cullen had joined her, but she didn't touch it.

"I can't return," she said eventually, voice soft but firm. "I have a responsibility to protect the mages."

"And I have a responsibility to stop them."

Solana snorted. "How perfect, a mage and a templar. I'm certain Varric's in on this. It sounds just like something from one of his books."

Cullen leaned against the bar, recalling how the dwarf encouraged him to drink just before Leliana sprung her trap. "Most certainly," he agreed.

Solana swivelled her body on her stool so she was facing him. "Look, aside from the mage thing, and the Hero of Ferelden thing… there are Grey Wardens involved in this. I don't know whether I still hold rank with them, but it's possible I do. It's possible I can at least stop them."

"The phylacteries are my responsibility," Cullen insisted.

"Why do you always have to be so stubborn?"

" _Me_?" Their argument was starting to draw curious stares. He ducked his head and hissed to her. " _I'm_ hardly the stubborn one."

She laughed hollowly and fixed her hands around her drink.

"I am _not_ stubborn," he repeated.

"Look, Cullen, this journey is going to mean a lot of one-on-one time. The route takes us through forests and-"

"So you _do_ have a map?"

She glared at him but did not dignify that with an answer. "And there will be a lot of walking and camping and -"

"I've been through the wilderness before. Have you forgotten about the Battle of the Arbor Wilds already?"

"I'm not implying you're unqualified, Cullen. I'm just saying that if we do this, we're going to have to do it without killing each other. We don't have time to get sidetracked by our personal issues."

"Maker's breath, Solana, I'm not a child."

She stared obstinately into her ale. As much as he hated to admit it, she _was_ uniquely qualified for this.

"I may not be the Hero of Ferelden, but I'm not without skill. However, if you truly wish for me to return to Skyhold, I will. I ask only that you then hire someone to accompany you. I do not fancy the idea of you travelling into this entirely alone."

"Nor do I," she said softly.

He watched her profile, the tendrils of wild hair that curled down her cheek, the beautiful bright eyes. His heart clenched.

"Hiring someone would waste time," she said. "I have a room here for the night, but we can set off as soon as you're ready." 

* * *

Solana pulled out the scroll and spread it on the table just beneath the window. Cullen had chosen to make use of her room to wash and get a change of clothes, and now he sat at the small table looking pensive.

"That doesn't look like any map I've ever seen," he said.

"It's not a map, it's a celestial chart. The type used by sailors. I got it from the ship's captain on the way over from Jader."

His brow furrowed. "I thought you said we were to be travelling through forests, not across the ocean?"

"Same difference though, isn't it?" The note that Leliana had given her was considerably smaller, but she placed it on the table too. It was a map of part of Orlais with star positions jotted beneath it. Solana tapped an area circled in ink. "Leliana's agent identified the star position of Anders's location as somewhere around here."

Cullen leaned forward and squinted at the page. "Around here?"

"It seems like if we follow the Arlesans River north that will take us most of the way. Then… we use this." She was wearing the small brass sextant around her neck so as not to lose it, and she pulled it from beneath her robes to show Cullen. "I also have an almanac of star positions for when we get closer. Leliana mentioned in her note that she suspected the map her agent got hold of was purposefully vague and that it wouldn't take us all the way there. I see what she meant. This translates to a very broad area. We'll have to look for other clues as we draw nearer."

"You love this, don't you?" he asked.

She wasn't sure how to interpret the question. Was it an accusation? Perhaps he thought she should be at home with their child, rather than adventuring. Or that she took some sick joy in hunting down someone who had once been a friend. His gaze rested on the map, offering no clue.

"It's better than being locked in a Circle," she said, tucking the sextant away.

He made no comment as she packed up the maps. The truth was, she _did_ enjoy it. She felt alive, like she had purpose again. And she felt more at home on the road than she'd ever felt at Skyhold.

"We should go through our packs, compare supplies, discard anything we don't need," she suggested.

Cullen jerked. His mind must have been wandering. "That won't be necessary. We should take what we can carry."

"Unnecessary items will weigh us down," she pressed.

He rose. "I'm assuming we won't be sharing a tent, so I'd argue everything is necessary."

Taking two tents was definitely a waste. But if that was the only way he'd be comfortable, she had no choice but to agree. "Fine. Then we should get going. We still have a few hours of light left."

"Agreed."

* * *

A small crowd had gathered around the training dummies, and small in this case meant… well…

"Mister, mister, will you teach me to fight with a sword?"

"And me!"

"I want to learn too!"

It seemed like every single one of Skyhold's brats had been summoned to the training area the instant Ren had touched his sword. In all truth, Samson wouldn't have minded, but they seemed to distract the boy. And this was only his first lesson, he needed to concentrate.

Ren squared his shoulders and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He glanced to the side where a particularly eager little girl was jumping up and down trying to get a better look at him.

Samson placed a hand on his shoulder. "Remember what I told ya, hips face forward towards your opponent."

Even the small movement sent sharp pain down Samson's side. His rib wasn't quite healed yet. He was loath to ask a mage for help, even if he'd believed there was a chance he'd be able to find one willing. Time heals all wounds, as the ol' saying went.

The boy nodded and shifted position.

Samson nudged his right foot with his boot. Ren nearly lost his balance. "You gotta keep your weight even. Else your opponent can knock you over."

"Yes, ser."

He wasn't sure how he liked being called ser, but he didn't think encouraging him to call him Samson was the best idea considering his name's infamy.

"Alright, now let's see you strike. Remember to move to the right."

Ren lifted Samson's sword, his arms trembling. He struggled to get it high enough. Sweat prickled across his forehead. But he gritted his teeth and eventually managed. When he moved forward he did exactly as Samson had advised, striking the dummy's right shoulder.

"Good. Again."

Ren panted with the effort, but he swung once more. The sword barely touched the dummy's shoulder before it bounced lightly off it.

There'd been other children watching the first time Samson had lifted a sword too. They'd stood and jeered at him, while his instructor had scolded him. Most of them had been noble, unlike this lot, and they'd practiced with wooden swords since they could stand. He still remembered the heat on his cheeks, the way sweat had trickled down the back of his neck. Now that same pink flush stained Ren's face.

"You'll find this easier with time," Samson assured him.

He had Ren repeat the drill a few more times. When it became clear that he wouldn't manage many more swings without seriously straining himself, Samson had him practice parrying. Even though it was clear Ren was tired, he was reluctant to call an end to the lesson so soon with all those little eyes watching. Then he noticed someone else watching, from the shade of a nearby tree. Celeste stood against the trunk, half hidden in shadow. When his eyes met hers, she inclined her head towards the stairs to the battlements.

"Uh, Ren, I think that's enough for today," he said as he watched her mount the stairs. Had that meant what he thought? One way to find out.

He found Celeste leaning over an embrasure, looking down at the training area. Samson noted that she'd chosen a place where hardly anyone ever walked and where it would be difficult for anyone to see them from below. He was glad of this. She'd taken his warnings to heart, then.

"Raleigh Samson, Skyhold's babysitter. Who would have thought?" She commented as he approached.

He grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. "How long have you been watching?"

"Long enough to know you'd need this." She passed him a skin of water.

It was delightfully cool, he hadn't realised just how thirsty he'd grown while they'd been training.

"Some days I feel like you're sent by Andraste herself," he said, passing back the empty vessel. The truth was, it was most days. Celeste was never far from his mind, nor all the ways in which she'd changed things for him. His eyes lingered on her face, her smiling lips. Realising he was staring, he cleared his throat. "He's a good boy. Fast learner. We need to build some muscle though, or find him a smaller sword."

"I'll ask around at the market. I'm sure someone has something."

Samson shook his head. "Naw, weapons are expensive. I was thinking I could maybe put in a requisition. What's the word on this Rylen guy? You know anything about him?"

"Who's Rylen?"

So that was a no, then. Cold wind whipped over the fortifications, a pleasant respite from the heat of the day. Plus, it made Celeste's cheeks pink. He quite enjoyed the effect. Samson knew he should just thank her for the water and go. He was the one who insisted they never see each other. Yet, there wasn't anyone here, right? There was no harm in lingering in her presence a little longer.

"I went to talk to Rutherford what, about three days ago? And he tells me he's being replaced for the time being. Needed elsewhere. Instead there's this Rylen. Apparently he was serving out in the Western Approach."

"Cullen's gone?" Celeste's hair lashed around her face, and she brushed it away.

"Yeah, I guess he slipped away quietly. Don't know what his business is, not sure he'd tell me if I asked. Anyways, Rylen seems alright so far. He hasn't thrown me back in the dungeon or had me tortured. So I consider that a good sign. Still, was hoping you'd picked up some gossip. You know, maybe something else that can inform how I act around him? I don't want to make some misstep and throw away everything. I'm gifted enough at that as is."

Celeste chewed on her lower lip and didn't respond.

"Or not, it's alright. I mean I don't want to get you in trouble or-"

"Solana's also gone. Leliana sent her on a mission." She shook her head and laughed. "Our spymaster is playing matchmaker while an army of mages threatens the next Divine. Well, she certainly knows how to gamble."

"A what?" He stared at her, trying to work out if he'd heard what she'd said correctly.

Her cheeks went even pinker and her hand flew to her mouth.

"I get it, don't worry. I'm the bad guy. Far be it for me to know what's going on around here."

"No, it's not that." She shook her head for emphasis. "No one's supposed to know. They don't want to cause panic."

"You're not very good at keeping secrets."

"Not from you at least."

His heart did a strange double beat. Even with the wind, the air felt thick and sticky. His fingers tingled.

Here they were, alone, no one to see them. No reason to stay away from her. And she was so damned beautiful, like some painting, with the long wild hair and the pink cheeks and... lips. She was up against one of the merlons, a picture against the sweeping vista of the Frostbacks. He moved towards her. Her green eyes locked on his.

"You trying to say you trust me?" he asked softly, with a smile so she knew he was teasing. Kind of.

"Should I?" Her voice came out breathless and he knew she was caught in this same _thing_ , this moment where everything seemed to hang waiting.

"Depends with what." His pulse drummed louder than the wind as he leaned towards her. It was something primal that he could no more control than his rapid heartbeat, this need to feel her lips on his. But he moved slowly, giving her more than enough time to pull away should she will it.

His face was inches from hers, he could hear her rapid breathing. He closed his eyes and…

Her hand on his chest. "Sorry." The word, a whisper. Her breath still coming fast. "Sorry, I can't."

She ducked her head and pulled away. And then she was running back along the battlements. He took off after her. He'd misread the signs. He needed to apologise.

"Celeste!"

He caught up with her as she reached the stairs. He snatched her hand, pulling her around. A pulse of electricity shot up his arm and she slipped free as it fell limp, useless and painful to his side.

She backed away from him, chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes wide. "You're too much like him," she breathed.

"Too much like who!" he called to her retreating back, cradling his arm.


	79. All but broken

One thing Cullen couldn't deny about Orlais: it was beautiful. The inn sat on the edge of a forest, the afternoon sun streamed through the trees in golden beams, and in the other direction the ocean glinted, beckoning them home. But it was into the dark forest that their mission summoned them.

The trees were packed close at first, so close that Cullen doubted they'd be able to travel very far before their way was completely blocked. He had to cut aside a few smaller branches. Solana ducked and dived just ahead of him. She wore a cloak with a furred collar, despite the temperate weather, and carried a pack on her back and one at her side. Still, she was nimble. Oftimes he would have lost sight of her if not for the brightness of her hair against the green.

The forest opened out as they drew closer to the river. He heard it well before he saw it; water gushed down from the Arlesans hills, roaring and smelling like rain and earth. At first the sound was so loud as to be overwhelming, but as they moved up river he found he grew accustomed to it. Still, there was little need for talk as they navigated their way over tree roots and under thick aged branches. Cullen wouldn't have been surprised if they stumbled upon an ancient elven temple. This was that kind of place.

When the shadows grew too thick, and the light too dim to safely navigate between the trees, Solana suggested they look for a place to camp.

A little away from the river, there was a small glade with dry, even ground that he submitted would possibly be a good spot. He expected her to argue, but she nodded and removed her pack.

He left her to set up the fire, knowing she could likely have done so in her sleep, while he pitched his tent. He stashed his pack safely within, and then offered to pitch hers. Again, she gave no protest. Perhaps travelling with her wouldn't be quite as difficult as he'd imagined.

The night was full of song: birds, crickets, wild nugs. It was altogether quite pleasant. Solana produced a bottle of wine she'd brought from the inn and even offered to share it with him.

"What do you know about Arlesans?" she asked as the fire crackled, cooking their roast nug dinner.

"Not much, to be honest. My Orlesian geographical knowledge is somewhat lacking."

Solana took a sip of the wine and passed him the bottle. "I came through this forest before. There are a few small villages we can stop at for supplies. Arlesans itself was overrun by darkspawn during the Third Blight. The Wardens had a heavy presence in the area. You remember when we were in the Western Approach? You couldn't walk five miles without running into some Warden landmark? It's a little like that."

"And if Wardens are involved in this…"

"That's what I'm thinking. They'll have taken up residence in some old Warden ruin. I'd put good coin on it."

Cullen tasted the wine. It wasn't too bad for something you'd find in a roadside inn. He leaned back. The stars were bright overhead, and he could easily pick out the common constellations between the trees. "And when we find Anders, what then?"

"Then we reason with him."

He handed her the wine and watched as she took another drink. She'd twisted her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, but as usual much of it was escaping. "And if he can't be reasoned with?"

"He will be. He's not a monster."

"That's naive."

She rolled her eyes and made a deep growling sound.

"Need I remind you what he did in Kirkwall?"

"Need I remind you he saved my life, and your daughter's?"

 _Only because she put their lives in danger._ He pressed his eyes closed, pushing the memory from his mind. "That's hardly the same thing."

"If we can convince him that the new Divine won't bring back the Circles, he'll have no reason to strike."

"You mean lie to him?"

Solana stared at him and he righted himself. It took a moment for her to speak. "How can you be so certain the Circles will return?"

Of course, she didn't know about Cassandra. Was he supposed to keep that secret? "How can you be so certain they won't?"

"Because Leliana told me. Her personal assurance."

"Oh, and what's she going to do about it? Send spies in to change official documents? Assassinate anyone who votes pro-Circle?"

Solana squared her shoulders. "Leliana can assure me because she will be the one making the decision. She's the next Divine."

A range of more suitable responses rushed through Cullen's head, but what came out was a bark of laughter. "She told you that?"

Solana nodded, eyebrows drawing together in suspicion.

"Cassandra's the next Divine. I overheard her speaking with the Inquisitor." He couldn't resist adding, "I'm surprised he didn't mention it to you. I assume that's why he went off to the Frostback Basin."

Solana's expression was frozen. Still puzzled, searching the embers. "Leliana lied to me?"

 _Blast it._ She looked positively heartbroken - not what he'd intended. "Leliana no doubt said what was necessary to get you here. I'm certain she lied to me too."

 _... I know you to be a master strategist and a man of principle. You are skilled with the sword, trained in survival..._

And he'd swallowed it. He wanted to reach out to Solana, offer her some measure of comfort, but he wasn't sure the gesture would be welcomed.

"Cassandra will certainly bring back the Circles," Solana said.

That had been his first thought too, when he'd initially heard the news. And now he could see Solana having the same doubts about her future, her position, as he had had. She was no longer a Grey Warden. Fiona had been thrown back into a Circle when she'd been cured. What was stopping them from doing the same to Solana? She was the Hero yes, but a powerful mage. And if word got out about what she'd done to save Alise...

"I won't let them put you in a Circle again," he said softly.

She startled, as if he'd shouted. Her eyes explored his face. "My mother didn't want to let them either. She had power, influence, but they took me anyway…" She fidgeted with the sextant around her neck. "What if Alise is a mage?"

His gut churned at the thought. It had occurred to him before, of course. To his knowledge, Tranquility only ever happened to mages.

He'd removed magelings from their families as part of his duties as a Templar. Some families would hand over their children without protest. Their eyes would be glassy and sometimes members would glare at him from half-shuttered windows where they thought he couldn't see. But some… screaming, crying, mothers clinging to their babes, begging him, _Please, she's all I have._

He'd had sympathy for them, but he'd felt safe in the knowledge that he was doing the right thing. He was protecting the family, and the mage. Yet now he was a father himself… the thought of someone coming and taking Alise from them, never to see her again or discover what became of her, was unbearable.

"Would you mind taking the first watch?" Solana asked. "I find I don't have much of an appetite."

He nodded and she passed him the wine as she headed out of the circle of firelight, into her tent. 

* * *

Samson paced from one side of the corridor to the other and back again. He ran his hands through his hair, cursed himself, and muttered what he intended to say again.

"Celeste, I'm sorry. No. Celeste, please forgive me. _Shit._ Too desperate. Celeste, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable yesterday. _Idiot._ 'Course you made her uncomfortable, she jolted you with her magic, didn't she?" His arm still ached a little near the shoulder. "Celeste, I wanted to apologise for making you uncomfortable yesterday. I misread… things. I was out of line." _Yeah. I was out of line._ "Celeste, I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable yesterday. I was out of line. I promise nothing like that will ever happen again." He closed his eyes and drew a breath. "Do you think you can forgive me?" _Urgh,_ he hated the pitiful note in his voice, he'd have to try make it sound less pathetic. Even though he _was_ pathetic. The thought of never talking to her again-

"Of course I can."

He whipped around, so fast he almost fell over. Celeste was standing by the kitchen door, hands behind her back. He'd chosen the right place to wait for her, and the right time. He'd been uncertain when the dinner shift ended.

"I didn't mean for you to hear all of that," he said.

"Didn't you?" She smiled. He supposed she was right. It was kind of amusing, in a way.

She bent to pick up a box of supplies. "If anyone should apologise it's me."

He rushed to help her. As he took the box from her hands, his fingers brushed hers. He nearly dropped the box, embarrassed, frightened she'd think it intentional. "No, you don't. I was out of line."

She pushed the pantry door open and he followed her inside. "I'm sorry, Samson. I didn't mean to… lead you on. I know I did and it's really not right."

He set down the box, letting the door shut behind him. She lit an overhead lamp with her magic.

"It's not your fault I'm a desperate fool."

"You're not." She started packing glass jars out of the box. He wanted to help her, but wasn't sure how, so he stood there like a dazed snoufleur.

"You said… you said I was too much like someone. May I ask who?"

She paused, fidgeting with the lid of one of the jars. The lamplight played over her features, making them difficult to read. "Ren's father," she said eventually. "He was… a Templar."

"Ah." What else could he say? The story was apparent. Forbidden love in the Circle, wasn't the first time he'd seen it and it certainly explained the boy's interest in swordplay. "May I ask what became of him?" He knew he was pressing her. She might throw him out. But at this stage, what did he have to lose?

"He died when Kinloch Hold fell during the Fifth Blight."

"I see." Now that was rough. He knew that as a blood mage from the Ferelden Tower she would have been partly responsible for that fall. He couldn't imagine that, being responsible for the death of someone you loved. But he could kind of understand. _Maddox._

"I thought perhaps I was over it," she said, speaking down to the jar. "I thought enough time had passed. I'm so sorry, Raleigh."

 _Raleigh_ , his first name. He liked the way she said it. "Hey, I'm the one who told you it was safer if we weren't seen together. Maybe this is for the best."

She nodded but she didn't look at him. Her shoulders were slumped, her eyes downcast. No doubt she was remembering old heartbreak, and he'd brought that upon her. He felt the urge to hold her, but knew that was likely the very worst thing to do.

"Celeste?" His voice caught a little. "You know, I'm still here, regardless? If you want to, I don't know, laugh about Rutherford or something? I'm always up for that."

He was glad to see a small flicker of a smile. "Thank you."

* * *

 _Hawke,_

 _I did as you asked, but your boy's lying low._

 _Here's the thing though. Ran into some Grey Wardens, couple with Ferelden accents. So I thought, hey, maybe they know something._

 _Turns out, they think Anders is dead. Sorry, wasn't sure how to break it to you._

 _They refused to give me more details. And I was very convincing. I'll keep digging._

 _Admiral Isabella_

Hawke slammed the letter down on the bar with such force that it shook, spilling his drink.

"Bad news?" the man on the stool beside him asked.

Hawke growled. It was all he could manage. When he'd been handed the letter, and had seen it was from Isabella, he'd dared to feel hope. He'd thought this would bring him relief. Instead it only brought more worry.

What if he _was_ dead?

The man sighed and shook his head. "Got a fair few of those myself. It's always tough, especially when you're surrounded by strangers." He had a lilting Starkhaven accent.

"Oh, really?" Hawke let his frustration leak into his voice. "You've also had letters telling you your lover might be dead, then?"

The words did not have the effect he'd thought. The man just shrugged. "Lovers, friends. Life of a soldier."

The man _was_ dressed like one of the Inquisition soldiers. He had tattoos down his chin and along the side of his nose. Hawke couldn't remember seeing him before.

"I'm not a soldier," Hawke said.

"You got a name, Not a Soldier? What are you drinking? Next round's on me."

Alright, definitely someone new. Hawke smirked and offered his hand. "Garrett Hawke."

That _did_ have the effect he expected. The man's eyes went large as he accepted his hand. "Rylen. You're pretty infamous where I come from, Hawke."

"I'm pretty infamous everywhere."

Rylen gave a bark of laughter. "Modest too."


	80. Hope and pride

Hawke stared up at the roof, and a starling stared back at him out of a gaping hole.

The sky beyond was a pleasant pale blue and a gentle breeze shifted the leaves on a tree branch that looked like it had grown right through the roof and no one had thought to stop it. Hawke might have enjoyed the sight if he had any clue how he'd got there.

 _Where in the Void am I?_

It was difficult to think. His head felt twice its size and when he rolled onto his side a sharp pain stabbed at his eyeballs. He groaned, finding himself twisted in some standard-issue Inquisition sheets.

Naked.

 _Oh._

Clothes. Where were his clothes?

He found his underthings at the foot of the bed, a single boot near the only exit - a ladder down. Shit.

Gathering what he could of his dignity, he laced up his underclothes, took the boot in hand and descended the ladder. There wasn't really much other option.

He was still a bit groggy, so he made it halfway down before he noticed the _room_. His stomach clenched as he almost lost his grip.

Cullen's room. Cullen's office. Which made that Cullen's bed. He'd woken up in Cullen's bed. _Oh shit._

"Good morning," a deep voice said from the desk and Hawke squeaked in fright, hopefully soft enough that the other man didn't hear him. Hawke hadn't even seen him.

It wasn't Cullen. That was a relief.

"What am I doing in Cullen's office?" he asked.

The man smiled, flashing perfect pearly white teeth. "You mean you don't remember?"

Beautiful voice. Starkhaven accent. Hawke remembered the large hand gripping his. _Rylen. You're pretty infamous where I come from, Hawke._

"Rylen." Hawke's mouth was as dry as the keep where this man hailed from. "Eh, pants?"

Rylen nodded to a chair where the rest of Hawke's clothing was neatly piled, including the missing boot. Hawke climbed the rest of the way down the ladder, averting his eyes. His face was hot, he imagined he was bright red. Not the look he usually went for the morning after. Then again, it had been a long time, a very long time, since he'd had this kind of morning after.

He retrieved his clothes. "Where's Cullen?" His voice was higher pitched than he would have liked.

"I told you last night, Cullen's been called away. I'm standing in for him for the time being. You really don't remember?"

No Cullen. Thank Andraste for small mercies. But now that he said that, he did remember a little...

 _Pressed against the door, warm arms pinning him, lips on his, then stubble brushing his neck as a hot tongue slid along his collarbone. Rylen had reached past him to open the door. "This is Cullen's office," Hawke had said._

 _Rylen had walked backwards, leading Hawke. "Mine for now." Further questions were cut off by fevered kissing. That's when Hawke had lost his shirt. "You sure about this?" Rylen had asked against his ear. "We're pretty blasted." He'd laughed, a low rumble, and Hawke had said, "I'm sure."_

"It's coming back to me," he said.

Rylen had been watching him with some concern, but now he returned his attention to what he'd been doing before. Hawke's heart stuttered. Lyrium. He'd been sitting at the desk preparing his morning dose of lyrium.

A fucking Templar.

Quite literally.

Hawke sat down on the chair to pull on his boots, watching Rylen as he muttered something over the philter, then tossed his head back and gulped the contents. Hawke had heard about Templars taking lyrium each morning, but had never actually seen the ritual. It was less involved than he'd imagined. Then again, he had just caught the tail end of it.

"So, last night... I might need your help filling in some blanks," he said once Rylen started packing up the apparatus.

Rylen chuckled, the sound sending a spear of heat down into Hawke's belly. "What do you remember?"

"You're Rylen, you bought a round of drinks. And I remember the middle bit I think. When we, uh, got here."

"Only the middle bit?" Rylen asked. He moved his chair around so he was facing Hawke. There was no accusation or hurt in the question, if anything it was vaguely flirtatious.

 _"You go up first," He'd said. "That way I can catch you if you fall."_

 _"How romantic."_

 _At the top of the ladder, waiting on the edge of the bed. Nervous shivers, the flush of alcohol and adrenaline. A moment to think, but wanting so badly not to. Then Rylen appearing, pulling off his own shirt and revealing chiseled tanned muscles, broad shoulders. So very different from Anders. A demonic grin, followed by strong arms around him. Lips joined. Getting lost in taste and touch. Being touched again. Gentle affection despite the fact that they had just met. Rylen had pulled away again to ask, "You're certain you want to do this?"_

 _"Yes." Hawke had tugged him closer giving him a grin of his own._

Hawke cleared his throat. "Alright, the middle and the, eh, end. Not the beginning."

Rylen leaned forward slightly. "Well I'm relieved to hear it. That you remember the most interesting part, I mean. I'm no storyteller, so I doubt I'd quite capture it." The smile again, completely open. He didn't seem the least bit ashamed of or embarrassed by what had happened between them. "Well, we had a few rounds at the bar, then went upstairs at your suggestion."

Hawke nodded. "A little more private." He remembered that.

"Right, then you wanted to talk about Anders."

 _Really?_ "Maker, sorry."

Rylen waved it off. "No, it's alright. You had a lot to get off your chest."

What had he said? Had he mentioned the phylacteries? "How did we go from _that_ to this?" Hawke glanced at the top of the ladder for emphasis.

"Well, we moved onto other topics eventually. And don't worry, you didn't make me buy all of the drinks." Rylen _winked_ and Hawke's stomach flipped.

 _"I'll get this round!" The bar had bobbed in front of Hawke's face and he tried to reach for it to hold it still, but Rylen held him back. "No more rounds, I think some fresh air is in order."_

 _Hawke had tried to shake him off. "Please. You bought the last three. I'm not. I'm not like that. Want to carry my own - not hanging around at the bar waiting for handsome strangers to buy me drinks, that's not me."_

 _"Handsome am I? Now I know for certain you've had too much."_

"Then the battlements," Hawke said.

 _Cool wind against his cheeks, his head starting to clear. Heart pounding as they walked. Dread that Rylen was taking him home. He didn't want the night to be over. But they'd found an alcove on the walls where the wind wasn't so bad. Stars overhead and glowing campfires down in the valley. They talked until the campfires were out, about nothing and everything, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder._

Rylen nodded again. "And then the kiss." His voice went extra low when he said that. His eyes twinkled.

 _Rylen had been the first to rise. "Well, I should get to bed. The troops will need me up early tomorrow." Hawke had tugged him back down and kissed him._

 _They hadn't exchanged more words until they'd reached Cullen's office, and that must have been an hour later._

Hawke touched his lips self-consciously. "I feel the need to clarify that I'm not usually like this."

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't make a habit of jumping into bed with men I've just met either. It was an enjoyable night, though. As enjoyable as it was unexpected."

Enjoyable, yes, but Hawke's chest felt tight. Aside from the pounding headache, there was the growing disquiet. He'd been with someone. Someone not Anders. While Anders was Maker knows where, in Maker knows what state, possibly dead or dying. And if Anders came back, or contacted Hawke… how would he deal if he found out Hawke had been with someone else? A Templar no less? How would Justice react?

It made Hawke feel dizzy. He scrubbed his face with his hands. "Thank you. I should... I should go."

"Anders?" Rylen asked, as if reading his mind. His eyebrows were drawn together, his kind eyes - such kind eyes - were searching Hawke's face.

Hawke's insides jolted, conflicting emotions tearing at him.

"You haven't betrayed anyone," Rylen said in that beautiful voice of his. "Anders left you, Hawke."

Hawke rose to his feet. "How can you stand to look at me?" The words fell out of his mouth, the swelling tide of his emotions starting to sweep him away. "You saw what happened to Kirkwall, what we did. You're a Templar for Andraste's sake."

"And by _we_ you mean what Anders did."

"I stood with him, or did Cullen leave out that part?"

"You stood with the man you loved, there is no shame in that."

"I did… more than that." Hawke pulled at the roots of his hair, willing the pain in his head and his chest to stop. "I was complicit. I helped him build the… I helped him distract the…"

Rylen's large hands gripped Hawke's shoulders. An anchor, bringing him back to himself. "You were tricked. You told me all of this last night."

"Well, perhaps I was trying to seduce you," Hawke said.

Rylen's mouth quirked upwards. "Even if that were the case, you'd still be the Champion of Kirkwall. You are more than him."

Hawke realised he was breathing heavily. He swallowed, trying to gain control of himself again. "Varric will be flattered that you've read his book."

Rylen raised his eyebrows. "Which book is that?"

"Tales of the Champion?"

Rylen shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a reader. Shameful, I know. Listen, Hawke, I can see you're working through some things." He let go of Hawke's shoulders and moved back to the desk. "I like you. That much should be obvious. I like you a lot, in fact. But I understand that might not be what you need right now." He leaned against Cullen's desk. "So, let me put it like this. I am here if you need an ear to talk things over with. I am here if you want more. And if you want neither." He shrugged. "No hard feelings. You set the pace on this."

* * *

Solana rested her hands on her hips. "You ready?"

Cullen rose from his crouch by the river, holding a canteen. "Almost."

She shook her head. "You realise we'll be travelling along the river? If there's one thing we won't run low on it's water."

"You never know what might happen. I intend to be prepared."

He leaned down again to fill another canteen. A breeze ruffled his hair and whispered through the canopy above them. It was the perfect weather for travelling. Clear and cool. Solana couldn't find it in herself to be annoyed. If anything, he was endearing.

He straightened, offered her a self-conscious smile. Her heart constricted. This was her husband. Out here, the last few months seemed like a horrible dream. She wished they could step through some portal and go back to before Alise was born. They'd still have to face so much, but perhaps she'd do better the second time around.

Alise… Alise would love it out here. Solana could hardly bear to think of her baby, her precious girl. How was she coping with the distance? Was the nurse handling her okay?

She tried not to let on how her breasts ached, or how her robes chafed, as they journeyed onwards. She knew Cullen was right, she should be at home with their child. But then who would stop Anders? Who would save the mages of Ferelden if not their Hero?

Cullen walked slightly ahead today, undistracted by uncooperative anatomy. He cut a clear path with his sword, in seemingly lazy movements that she knew held much strength. Could he save Ferelden's mages? Possibly. She had every faith in his abilities. But the truth was that she could not bear the thought of him going into danger alone.

He came to a sudden halt and held up a hand to stop her. If he'd been a dog, his ears would have been pricked. As it was, he tilted his head slightly to the side.

She heard it too. Something up ahead, moving through the forest along the river as they were, but heading in their direction. More like multiple somethings, moving as a group. Friend or foe? Her heart pounded. It was impossible to tell. Did they hide, flee or wait?

Then it hit her. The carrion stench.

She dived for Cullen, pulling him sideways into the brush. He struggled at first, making a small startled sound, but to his credit he quietened down and followed her lead, backing further into the vegetation as the other party approached.

Solana crouched low, not even daring to breathe. Through the leaves and branches, she saw their legs first. Darkspawn. If she'd still been a Warden, she would have sensed them. Now her nose had alerted her too late for them to get safely away.

From the armour, she counted a hurlock, two genlocks and one hurlock alpha.

One benefit of being unable to sense them was that they couldn't sense her either. Perhaps they'd move past? They walked a little further. Sweat dripped down her neck. Further. _What were darkspawn doing out here anyway?_ Further… they stopped. There was some excitement, and then they started moving back towards her hiding place. _No!_

Solana moved her head ever so slightly to position her mouth over Cullen's ear. "They found our tracks," she breathed. "I'll strike first. Be ready."

She tried to slip away from him, but his gloved hand clamped around her wrist. He shook his head violently, mouthing, "No."

Didn't he see they had no choice? Even as they deliberated, the darkspawn moved closer. She tried to tug her arm free, but his grip was hard as dragon bone. He was glaring at her as if _she_ was the one being irrational. Fine, if that's how he wanted to do things. With her other hand, she picked up a stick. She threw it behind them, further into the forest.

The darkspawn whooped and hissed and crashed through the bracken. They were still coming closer. Cullen's eyes went wide.

"Let. Me. Go." Solana said, hardly worried now whether the darkspawn would find them. They'd be upon them in seconds.

"You're insane," he hissed back.

She tugged her arm again and thankfully he either let go or his grip slipped. Free to run, she barreled through the trees, towards where she'd thrown the stick. Leaves and twigs slapped against her face, the undergrowth threatened to trip her, but she surged onwards. She heard the sounds of pursuit behind her. _Good._

She ran until her lungs ached, until they were gaining on her, then she ducked behind a tree and cast Celeste's invisibility spell.

Three seconds to catch her breath.

Their boots pounded across the forest floor, and stopped. Silence. Confused grunting. She moved out from behind the tree slowly, heart in her throat. They didn't seem to notice her, although they were looking around with interest. If she could just get back to Cullen without them seeing her-

"Solana!"

Cullen came crashing through the bush. He was red-faced, panting, and entirely obvious. Every one of the darkspawn turned to him.

Colour drained from Cullen's face, his grip tightened on his sword.

With no time to think, Solana leapt at the closest genlock, an archer, and used her staff to choke it. "Get the big guy!" she commanded Cullen.

He lifted his sword just in time to block an attack by the alpha. She cast a barrier over him, while clinging on to the archer for all she was worth.

The other genlock came roaring at her, swinging a large, crooked axe. She cast Chain Lightning through her staff and it speared off in a dozen separate directions, including Cullen's. She couldn't see him, so she hoped her barrier had held. The lightning had the desired effect. It slowed the approaching genlock, and made the one she clung to more pliant. Now they smelled like death _and_ burnt meat. She flung her weight to the side, maneuvering the horrid thing so her staff faced its cousin. Magic pulsed from her hand, up through the rune - which glowed briefly red - before it slammed into the genlock, and sent him flying backwards, with a hole in his chest.

Good thing she'd never bothered to swap out that cleansing rune.

 _Her_ genlock yowled and then she was catapulted backwards onto the forest floor. The breath whooshed out of her as she slammed into the ground. The genlock turned, bearing down on her, training an arrow on her face. She thrust out her hand, cast Winter's Grasp and froze it in place. She scrambled to her feet, heaving in air. Where was the hurlock?

Cullen was backed against a tree, trying to fight both of the remaining darkspawn. Solana was still struggling to get enough air into her lungs, but she cast at the hurlock. Arcane energy bounced off its armour, but it was enough to get its attention. It rounded on her, opening its toothy mouth to laugh.

"Funny is it? Come here and we'll see how funny you find my magic."

The skeletal form advanced towards her, black blighted skin dripping from its bones. Solana shifted her staff from hand to hand. She could feel her energy, her link to the Fade growing stronger. The hurlock raised one mighty arm. Its weapon glinted in the dappled light, primed to cleave her.

She cast through her staff again, aiming for the arm.

A scream of agony. The smell of smoke. The creature fell to its knees to claw at the place where its arm had been. She gathered energy for another strike, the one that would end it.

"Solana!"

She ducked automatically at Cullen's warning shout. An arrow whistled past her face. The genlock had come unfrozen prematurely. She whipped around, her primed spell flying into the archer instead of its original target.

Something seized her arm. She crashed backwards, losing her grip on her staff. The hurlock leaned over her, dripping its blighted blood from what was left of its shoulder. She pressed her mouth closed, tried to twist away from the deadly liquid, heart kicking with the realisation that she was no longer immune. She felt blindly for her staff. A giant blade hovered just above her face. The hurlock grinned.

She cast ice, in a last-ditch effort to halt that blade. Cold chased across the hurlock's frame as the blade came down. Not enough ice, not solid enough, not- The arm tumbled to the side as a silverite sword sliced it off at the shoulder. The hurlock just had time to look startled before its head followed its arm. The body collapsed on top of Solana.

"Solana!' Cullen rolled the corpse off her and fell to his knees beside her.

"No, don't!" she jerked out of his way as he reached for her. "Don't touch the blood." She scrambled upright, wiping her mouth and face with her sleeve until there was no chance of any blight finding its way into her. She spat for safety. " _Yech_ , didn't think I'd be doing that again."

"Have you lost your mind?" Cullen was still kneeling beside her. Was he hurt? She scanned his face, all the small exposed parts of him, didn't see any blood. "Solana!" He seized her arm and shook her. "What were you thinking? You're not immune anymore!"

"I know that, Cullen."

"You're not acting like it!" He gestured to her bloodied clothes for emphasis.

Yes, dismemberment had worked better when she'd carried the Taint. The fact that she no longer did may have slipped her mind in the heat of the battle. Still. "What was I supposed to do? Sit waiting for them to find us?"

"They may not have! They may have passed!"

"I told you they picked up our tracks."

"You're guessing."

"I know darkspawn!"

"Here we go again." He threw out his arms. "'I'm the Hero of Ferelden. Don't bother worrying about me. I'm bloody immortal!'"

She clambered to her feet. "Why is it so difficult for you to acknowledge my skill?"

"This has nothing to do with your skill!" He also rose.

"I'm a mage and I'm a good fighter. You can't bear that."

"This has nothing to do with you being a mage!"

"Oh really? So if I was, say, Bull or Rylen, you'd still be yelling at me?"

"I'm not yelling!"

It was almost humorous, his expression as he realised he was, in fact, yelling. If there were other darkspawn nearby, they'd almost certainly drawn their attention.

Cullen dropped his voice. "If it was Bull or Rylen, they wouldn't have run off into the forest like that."

"I was leading the darkspawn away from _you_."

"Why? No, don't tell me, I know. Because I'm not the Hero of Ferelden. Maker forbid I stand and fight with you shoulder-to-shoulder."

She almost growled her answer. " _Because_ I was going to use _magic_ to _sneak_ back past remember the spell. Mysterious blackberries?"

He had the decency to look slightly abashed at that. He pressed his lips together, glancing down at the hurlock blood slowly pooling at their feet. "How was I meant to know that was your plan?"

"You were _meant_ to trust me."

"How can I trust you not to get yourself killed when you keep trying to at every opportunity?"

She raked a hand through her hair, no doubt smearing bits of hurlock through it. "If I truly keep trying to kill myself, how come I'm still here?"

"Because I keep getting in your way." He shoved his sword into the ground with finality and turned from her. "We should gather wood, burn the bodies. We don't want the blight spreading."

She bit her tongue before she said something sarcastic and uncalled for. He was right about this, even if he was wrong about everything else. "These things came from somewhere. I'd like to try find where."

"I'd rather not lose the daylight." Cullen prodded at the hurlock alpha with his boot. It was sprawled with a deep gash in its stomach, just below the armoured plating of its torso.

"And I'd rather not be slaughtered by darkspawn in my sleep," she shot back.

He raised his eyes to meet hers. She could see anger still simmering beneath the surface of his gaze. "I'd suggest you set a ward, but I suppose that won't work."

A dig at Anders getting to the phylacteries. It shouldn't have hurt, but it did. Anders was powerful, but certainly he wasn't _that_ powerful. Perhaps her wards _had_ been weak.

She shook her head. "I'm going to go wash." Wouldn't do to get infected with the blight so soon after being rid of it. "If you need me, just... follow my phylactery." He'd kept it, after all.

He called her name as she trudged away, but she didn't look around.


	81. Battle lines

Solana submerged herself in the clear water and breathed out all the air in her lungs, sending forth a spray of small bubbles. Her hair danced around her like some tentacled sea creature. The corruption bled from it, twisting like smoke. When her lungs were empty she rose, feeling slightly lightheaded and much calmer. This part of the river was still; the water gathered in shallow pools along the edges, sunlight sparkled off the ripples and birdsong… no birdsong.

She shook her head and leaned from side to side to make sure her ears weren't blocked. A cool wind teased across the treetops. She could hear that. But no birds.

She sank down again, keeping only her nostrils and eyes above the water and scanning the banks for threats. Her staff was leaning against a tree beside her clothes, not far away. But on the other side of the river, something moved.

* * *

The ring of steel being hammered echoed at the other end of the armory as Samson fastened on a padded chestplate.

"Ser Samson, may I ask you something?"

Samson strapped the final piece of padding over his forearm. Ren mimicked him, biting on his lower lip in concentration as he struggled to fasten a buckle with his left hand.

They were alone in a corner of the armory. The other children hadn't yet discovered that this was where they prepared for their lessons.

"'Course," Samson said, reaching to help Ren with the buckle.

Ren allowed his assistance, but didn't look up and continued chewing on his lip. "I was talking to some of the…" His mouth formed a line and he nodded decisively. "Me and some of the others were talking. And they said some things."

Was the adjusted phrasing Ren's attempt to talk tough? Samson tried not to show his amusement. "The others, eh? And who are the others? Other boys your age?

Ren's attention shifted to the forge fires. "Yeah. Well... Older than me. But not by much! Ant is only half a year older."

"I see."

Ren squirmed. "Thing is, they were saying some things about you."

 _Ah._ Samson's stomach writhed. It had been bound to happen at some stage. He'd imagined that Celeste would be the one to broach the subject with her son, but it seemed he'd heard it from elsewhere first.

Ren's gaze darted up to meet his briefly, before landing on his feet. "Ser Samson… they said you helped Corypheus. That you're a bad man. I told them it was lies. They made me ask Ser Dennett."

The curmudgeon of a stablemaster. "I think it's _Master_ Dennet, Ren."

Ren scratched at his neck. "He said it was true." His voice was tiny.

Samson went cold. "It is true, Ren."

Ren's large eyes looked up into his. "I don't understand." It seemed like he was about to cry.

Samson felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. He hadn't realised how much the boy's trust had mattered to him. Now he'd lost it. And he only had himself to blame.

He swallowed. "I made some mistakes. I did some bad - terrible - things. I thought that's all I was good for. But then I met your mum. She told me that there was worthiness in me, that I could change."

Ren was still staring at him. "But Corypheus nearly killed mom. She wrote… when Haven was attacked, and there was a dragon. There were Red Templars and they filled the town and she was fighting with the Hero of Ferelden and the Red Templars nearly killed them but then Commander Cullen came and saved them."

 _Red Templars nearly killed them._ Maker. It wasn't like he hadn't known that they'd been on opposite sides. It wasn't like he didn't remember that night, when he'd commanded his vast army and had been absolutely certain in his victory. He remembered staring down the rise, Corypheus at his side, looking straight at Cullen in his ridiculous feathery surcoat and thinking, _Finally_. _Finally I am the superior one._

He drew his arms to his chest, noticing they were shaking. "That is all true," he said.

Ren blinked. His brow furrowed. "Mikel said you commanded the Red Templars."

Mikel must have been one of the boys. "I did."

"So, _you_ tried to kill mom."

Samson swallowed again. The urge to flee from this conversation was almost overwhelming, but that would be cowardly and would accomplish nothing. "Yeah."

"Why aren't you in the dungeon?"

Fair enough question. "I was. Your mum used to visit me and she convinced Commander Cullen that I'd be more useful out here, helping to train his men to survive fighting people like me."

"Why did she do that if you tried to kill her?" The hurt and confusion were now permeating the boy's voice so that it cracked and splintered.

"I don't know, lad."

Ren fell silent, staring at his knees.

Samson exhaled and shook his head. "Sometimes the world doesn't make as much sense as we'd like. I could give you excuses for what I did, tell you I was hungry or scared or angry. But the truth is, I was wrong and what I did was wrong. I am… deeply sorry for what nearly happened you your mum."

Ren brushed at his cheek. _Shit_ , he'd made the boy cry.

He shifted forward to put a comforting hand on Ren's shoulder, but then thought better of it. "Look, I'd understand if you don't want to do our lessons anymore."

Ren sniffled. "Mikel will laugh at me. Say 'told you so'."

That was the second mention of that name. "Who is this Mikel?"

"One of the boys. He's the leader."

The alpha brat in Skyhold's pack, no doubt. And Ren was the new kid. Tough, that. "And you care about what he thinks?"

"He said I shouldn't learn the sword. That I'm too weak and funny to watch. Also he said I wouldn't want to learn the sword when I found out the truth. Because no one wants to train with a… doesn't matter."

The lad was still trying to spare Samson's feelings at this juncture. Yeah, his mother's son, through and through.

"Ren, you've never picked up a sword in your life before now. 'Course you're gonna struggle. I struggled at first too."

"But you were a Templar."

"Yeah, I was. And a fine one at that." Celeste would probably be unhappy about this, but it seemed like the best time to ask. He found himself lowering his voice, as if concerned Celeste might overhear. "Do _you_ wish to be a Templar?"

Ren's eyes rose to Samson's face as if he'd said the most shocking thing. But after only a second's hesitation, he nodded.

"Unusual choice for the son of an apostate." Samson attempted a smile.

Ren returned it. It wasn't much as far as smiles went, but it was definitely better than crying. "My father was a Templar. I know with the war and everything… some Templars went bad and they wanted to hurt the mages. I don't want to be one of them. I… I want to help people. I want to be a hero. Like in the stories. I want to go on adventures, hunt down evil, fight dragons, find relics."

Sweet, naive, kid. "You don't have to be a Templar to do those things."

"Yeah, but Templars have powers."

"Heh. Power at a price. There's always a price for that kind of thing. Anyways, how d'you know you're not going to be a mage like your mum? Mages have powers."

"I hope I'm not."

Samson couldn't blame him. The last decade - the entirety of Ren's life so far - had been a terrible time for mages. "Well, if you want to be a Templar - or any kind of hero, mind - you're going to need to learn a weapon. It's going to take time, and dedication. Now, I understand if you don't want to learn with me after our chat here, but you can't stop just because you're not good at it yet. That, I won't accept."

He unsheathed his sword and held it out to Ren. Ren looked at it skeptically. "You won't tell mum will you? About what I want to be?"

"It's just between you and me."

Ren's small hand fastened around the sword hilt. "I want to train with you. I like you. Even if you did bad things before."

Samson tried not to grin like an idiot when he responded, "I'm fond of you too, lad."

* * *

Cullen tossed the final darkspawn arm onto the heap. He swore at it, like he'd sworn at the others. A litany of things he'd never say in public that were directed at his absent wife as much as they were at the darkspawn. Although, he'd never actually say them to her either.

A crash from the trees behind him had him reaching for his sword again, and spinning. Throat contracting, heart slamming. If it was more darkspawn and he had to face them alone-

But no. It was Solana. A dripping Solana with hair hanging in wet ropes and robes clinging to her… clinging to… He swallowed. She said something that he didn't quite hear. She hadn't bothered to do up the buttons down the front of her robe. Her collarbone, the curve of her breasts, everything down to her navel was displayed in a neat triangle of soft flesh.

"If we leave now we might be able to close it before night fall," she said.

He snapped his attention back to what she was saying. "Sorry, what?"

"The Deep Roads seal." She looked at him like he was dim.

 _Deep Roads what?_ "Perhaps you should start again."

She sighed, and crossed her arms, blocking his view (probably for the best). "I saw darkspawn moving along the other side of the river - don't worry, I was careful. They're coming and going from an entrance to the Deep Roads. There's a Warden seal there, but it's broken."

"You intend for us to fix it? Solana, we have a mission already." He gestured to the mound of darkspawn bodies with firewood propped around it. "We've been delayed enough as is."

Solana waved a hand casually and the mound burst into flames. "It won't take us far off course," she said, as if she'd done nothing at all.

"And how many darkspawn are we talking? How do we even know how many are out in the forest, ready to come up behind us? As impressive as your abilities are, we are still just two people."

"I was thinking about that," she said, turning around. Her robes hid very little as they clung to her wet skin and he cleared his throat and pulled his eyes away from her.

She drew in the ground with her staff. "Two phase attack. Phase one is to draw their attention. We bring those that are out in the forest back with a threat of some kind. I'm thinking fire. I have some Antivan grenades in my pack." They still had to retrieve their packs from where they'd initially encountered the darkspawn. "Then, we launch a second attack on whoever's still outside. I repair the seal so they can't get back in. We finish them off."

He peered at her diagram. It was nothing more than a number of arrows. "We're still jmerely two people. I suggest we mark the location on a map and tell the Wardens about it when we find them. They can come fix it. It's their duty, not ours."

"Not yours, maybe." Solana's eyes flicked to his. "I'm a Warden in every sense except the Taint. I took vows."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Solana…"

"Besides, these darkspawn are a threat to anyone travelling through these woods. What about the neighbouring towns? We can't in good conscience just leave it."

"We may have little choice. We're outnumbered. Four of those things nearly-"

"But this time we're prepared."

Cullen closed his eyes and prayed to Andraste for mercy.

It took three hours to get set up. Three valuable hours that they could have - should have - been travelling. Cullen's breath stopped whenever Solana wove between the trees to place the traps. She was using Celeste's stealth spell, which meant that he could only see her as long as his gaze followed her.

There were many more darkspawn moving along the bank than he'd anticipated. He'd counted nine. If it came to a fight, he wasn't certain that was survivable. But Solana was right in one respect, _they_ at least stood a chance. The average traveller would not.

He jumped as she slipped into visibility beside him. "I've put down ice mines around the edges, hidden in the grass. We should have warning if anyone comes up from behind. There's a trap rigged to spill pitch across the entrance. It should slow down anyone rushing out."

"Good," he said. Just the nine to worry about then.

"We should move before someone triggers the mines."

He nodded.

They snuck quietly out from their hiding place. They'd crossed in the shallows downriver and had stashed their packs safely away from the fighting. This attack had to be stealthy. It was all well and good for Solana with her spell, but Cullen was wearing full armour. Even his movements were loud. So, when they crouched down behind abush much closer to the darkspawn, Solana pressed a jar into his hand. In it swirled a purple mist that glowed faintly with strange alchemy. A confusion grenade - one of Morrigan's contributions to the Inquisition. He nodded his thanks.

Together, they peered through the bushes at their enemy.

The Deep Roads entrance itself seemed to be cleaved from the side of a knoll. It was not unlike the unassuming exit from Kinloch's tunnels that Anders had shown them, but with an ancient tree growing in a tangle of gnarled branches over it. The darkspawn had set up a small camp in front of the entrance with one of their leather tents and a small campfire - cold at the moment. What did they even use campfires for? They didn't eat as far as he knew. And what in the world were they even doing up here? Cullen recalled a year or so back, he'd discovered similar incursions on the Storm Coast and the Inquisitor had taken Dorian to sort them out. It was concerning and he hoped - prayed - it wasn't the first sign of another Blight. Maker knows, Thedas had enough troubles.

There was a hurlock apha at the entrance, a couple of hurlocks on patrol and some smaller genlocks busy around camp. They were repulsive even to watch. This close the stench of their rot was almost overwhelming.

"I'll go for the hurlocks," Solana whispered. "You get the genlocks with the grenade and attack the-"

"Alpha directly, I know."

They'd discussed strategy at length already. Solana started to rise, but he seized her arm as another darkspawn creature appeared, sniffing the air. Solana swore.

"That's a shriek. Change of plan. We move fast, you get him first."

He didn't think to argue. That she knew darkspawn was not in doubt. "Alright. And the Alpha?"

"I'll figure something out."

"Solana..."

She glanced at him, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "Do you think you can get some of the genlocks with the grenade too?"

"I can certainly try. You're not thinking of taking the Alpha on alone are you?"

The shriek sniffed the air again and looked towards them. Cullen knew there was little time to argue.

"Not entirely." She grinned and shifted a fire grenade from hand to hand. "I'll disable him. You confuse the minions and go for the shriek. Then I'll lead the minions to the mines and you finish the Alpha off."

"What about the entrance?"

"Shit. Okay. Let me think."

Cullen shook his head. "You disable the Alpha, then seal the entrance. I'll keep the minions and the shriek occupied…"

"I'll try freeze a few."

"Right. Then I'll finish the Alpha."

She nodded and smiled again. Her joy was palpable. She inclined her head a little as she said, "Good luck, Commander."

"Good luck, Hero."

She faded as she cast her spell, and ran out from behind the bush, darting through the middle of the camp. Only the shriek seemed vaguely aware of her. It screamed at the air, tracking her, and Cullen's whole being tensed. But the thing made no move to follow Solana and the other darkspawn paid it no mind.

He waited, trying to find the pool of calm within that he always lectured his men to focus on before going into battle. The exercise proved utterly futile. His pulse would not still so long as Solana was out there making herself vulnerable. Her grenade launched into the air, twinkling as it cut a broad arch before it met the ground in an explosion of flame. The pitch trap triggered. Black goo rained down upon the flames, and they ate it hungrily, growing higher and higher.

The effect was akin to kicking an ant hill. The darkspawn ran, in no discernible direction, and Cullen recognised his cue. He took off towards the highest concentration of darkspawn, but he hadn't accounted for the smoke. It stung his eyes and burned his throat. He knew his grenade had landed only when twisted purple smoke joined with the black smoke of Solana's fire. It was quite the challenge to stay clear of it as each darkspawn it touched started shooting or striking out randomly at his fellows.

Cullen tried to make out Solana in the mess, but he couldn't see her and there was no time. He held his hand over his nose and mouth and ran through the chaos, aiming for where the shriek had been. It was no longer there. He spun around, squinted through the smoke.

He spotted Solana.

She was in the tree.

She hung over the alpha, aiming her staff at its head.

Something barrelled into Cullen and he lost his footing. A swift roll to the side was all that saved him from being pierced by a giant claw. The shriek had found _him_. The air pulled taut around him as a barrier glimmered into place. _Thank you, Solana._ Hopefully the spell hadn't cost her valuable time. The shriek screamed again, and the reason for its name was evident. Cullen scrambled backwards, blocked another strike with his shield, and turned as it struck a third time, throwing it off balance. He drove upwards with his sword and felt the satisfying crunch of armour giving way to flesh.

"Cullen, watch out!"

He dived into a roll automatically. A genlock ran at him from the Deep Roads entrance, waving a crooked axe. Its momentum carried it past him, and he was able to stab it behind the shoulder. It fell to its knees as the injured shriek made a dive for Cullen. There was no way to avoid it. It ploughed into him, sending him sprawling. His ears rang, and he managed to twist his face away as the shriek's sharp teeth came for his throat. _Get up._ He dug his elbow into the ground and wrapped his other arm and leg around the putrid thing, forcing it over onto its back. Sitting astride it, he stabbed down into its chest again and again, gasping for breath. It gave one final shriek and was still.

With an instant to look around, he saw Solana was riding on the Alpha's shoulders dodging the swings of its gigantic sword with ease. From her vantage point, she was able to shoot ice spells at the remaining darkspawn.

 _Boom crack, boom crack._ Her ice mines triggered one after the other. Whatever reinforcements had been about in the woods had just arrived. Cullen climbed to his feet and readied himself. Solana cast a barrier over them both, and sent a final ice spell down through her _steed._ With the Alpha frozen solid, she climbed down. 

She wiped the hair out of her eyes with one hand and tossed him something with the other. Thank the Maker he caught it, because it turned out to be another fire grenade. Before he could say anything, she'd turned and started casting in front of the entrance.

The reinforcements were not as impressive as he'd feared. A rabble of genlock approached, limping already thanks to Solana's mines. He aimed the grenade at the centre of the group. Only two of the lot managed to stumble out of the flames and he cut them down easily enough.

Another _crack s_ ounded behind him and he turned, already swinging at the Alpha. At the same instant that his sword hit home, the Alpha exploded. Shards of iced darkspawn flew across their measly camp. Solana stood in front of the repaired Warden seal with her staff in her hand and a grin on her face.

There was complete silence. They were surrounded by scattered bodies and body parts. The darkspawn hadn't stood a chance.

"Good work," Cullen said, offering Solana his own smile.

"We make a pretty good team," she said. Her eyes darted to her feet, self consciously. She was streaked with darkspawn blood again. Her hair had frizzed as it had dried. She'd done up her robes, of course, and put on some protective leather over them. She looked like a Alamarri warrior queen. The tug of desire for her in the pit of his stomach was raw and primal. He controlled himself.

"We should probably wash," he said. _Separately._


	82. The fire inside

_A/N I should probably put this here: Views of the characters do not necessarily represent those of the author. The author loves all the characters and wants to put them in a puppy pile and snuggle them. Sometimes people have unreasonable views and do unreasonable things. Even good people. Especially when they haven't had the best time of it in recent years. Okay, hopefully that's sufficiently vague, and will make sense at the right times in the next few chapters. I'll get on with the story! :)_

* * *

Hawke told himself he would not visit Rylen again.

One night, he could handle. He'd been good at those back in the day, back when it was spend a night in a stranger's embrace or on the floor of Gamlen's hovel listening to Carver snore and being drooled on by the dog. Working for a year as a mercenary in a city that couldn't stomach mages had been good for building muscle. Couple that with living on scraps, and he'd had the physique of a god. Or so the passing dalliances had loved to tell him. It had never been difficult to find a warm place to sleep.

Then he'd met Anders. Anders with his sorrowful eyes and gigantic heart, who had forgone sleep entirely in order to keep sick refugees alive. Anders with his tragic past and his _desperate_ need to be loved.

When they'd eventually slept together, Anders had clung to him like his life had depended on never being apart again. He had whispered truths he'd been too afraid to share before, how he'd dreamed of Hawke, how he'd never imagined Hawke returning his affections, how he'd loved Hawke secretly from afar for oh so long.

There was never any chance of that being a one night thing. Anders would come to him night after night, at whatever odd hours his clinic closed. Sometimes he'd be streaked with blood and Hawke would be terrified that some of it was his. Eventually he learned that the blood wasn't merely that of his patients. Sometimes it belonged to templars who had tried to stop him rescuing mages, sometimes it belonged to mages who hadn't made it out of the Gallows unharmed. Anders was Darktown's healer, but Hawke was Anders's. He'd clean him and feed him and hold him. He'd try and kiss away the horrors. He knew now that he never quite succeeded.

There hadn't been a stranger since their first night together.

Now there had been. Rylen, with his easy smile, his lyrical voice, and kisses that demanded nothing in return.

Hawke told himself that Rylen was no more to him than the strangers he'd taken comfort in during that first year in Kirkwall. It had been a good night together, a _very_ good night together, but that was all. It wasn't a betrayal just to seek comfort, was it?

Problem was, Rylen hadn't left his mind since.

Hawke cleared his throat and Varric looked up from the parchment where he was frantically scribbling. The hall around them was loud and far too hot. He didn't know how Varric could write here.

"You have a minute? I need to talk."

Varric gave him a lopsided smile. "Anyone else who interrupted me in the middle of a good scene would have the Void to pay. But you know I'm available any time for you, Hawke."

His way of saying he'd rather be left alone. Well, tough.

Hawke inclined his head towards the outside. Best keep this away from prying ears. Varric's eyebrows furrowed in concern, but he set down his quill.

They walked in silence until they were a little way outside Skyhold's gates. There was quite the wind whipping around the walls. It flicked at the trees like a cat's tail. Storm was coming, no doubt.

Hawke found a sheltered patch behind a rock. Varric put his hands on his hips. "This about Anders?"

Varric probably thought he had news and that was why Hawke had led him so far away from everyone. "In a sense," he said.

Varric raised his eyebrows.

 _Nothing for it._ "I slept with Rylen."

Varric's eyes went wide. Then he tossed back his head and laughed.

Hawke folded his arms. "That wasn't supposed to be funny."

"Sorry. Just, you were so dramatic. I thought this was about something important."

"It _is_ important."

"Why, is he married?"

"No!" Hawke cleared his throat. "I mean, not that I know of."

Varric patted his arm. "Well then, that's good. It's good that you're finally seeing other people."

"I'm not _seeing_ him. I slept with him, once. I thought you'd understand."

Varric hitched up his trousers and settled down on one of the rocks. "Then maybe you should spell this out for me."

Hawke buried his head in his hands. "I've been with Anders for seven years, Varric."

"So you're worried you've forgotten how courting works?"

"No! That's not what I'm worried about. I'm worried about _Anders_."

"Hawke, you've spent the last seven years being worried about Anders."

"So, what, I just throw that all away?"

"You're not the one who threw it away. You know I've stayed out of it, I've kept my mouth shut. It's between the two of you. But Hawke, what he did with the chantry, what he did to Kirkwall…"

"I know you'll never forgive him for that. But he had his reasons." Hawke said through grit teeth. "The Chantry was-"

Varric held up his hands. "I was going to say, it would be one thing if that was the end of it. But experimenting on prisoners, dabbling in blood magic and now... Hawke, you gave him a second chance no one else would have. He's made his bed now. He's not your responsibility."

"I know. But how much is really him? Maybe Justice…"

"Maybe Justice has taken over and what, you're going to save him from the demon? How, Hawke? By saving a place in your bed for him?"

Hawke rubbed his eyes. The turbulent emotions crashing around within him were threatening to overwhelm him. "When we find out where he is, I can go after him. I can talk sense into him. I can bring him back to himself."

"Because that worked so well in Kirkwall."

The words hit Hawke right in the stomach. "That was unnecessary."

Varric stood. "Was it, Hawke? Was it really? You are my friend. My best friend. I don't care what Blondie does to himself anymore. But I do care what happens to you. I'm tired of seeing you like this. The only time you've shown a glimmer of your old self in years was when you first got here, when he was locked away with Aveline."

"That's not fair."

"Maybe, but it's the truth. If you wanted fair, you should have gone to someone else." Varric folded his arms and jutted out his chin.

Hawke didn't say anything and Varric didn't speak either. The wind roared around them, gathering force.

Eventually, Varric said, "So, tell me about this Rylen then?"

Even the mention of the name made Hawke's heart beat faster. "He's Cullen's second in command. Apparently Cullen's been called away and he's filling in."

"Yeah, I know who he is. Tattoos, right?" Varric pointed to his chin. "Met him in the Western Approach when I was there with the Inquisitor a few months back. You hit it off?"

"I'd say." Hawke attempted a smile, even though guilt still twisted in his gut. "We had drinks, drinks became… more. He said he'd be interested in seeing me again."

"So, what are you waiting for?" Varric grinned.

Hawke sighed. "You make it sound so simple."

Varric placed a hand on his arm again and looked up at him, eyes serious. "Hawke, I know this might come as something of a revelation to you, but sometimes things _can_ be simple." 

* * *

The wind whipped at Celeste's hair, even stronger than the day before on the battlements. She kept gathering it into a twist at the nape of her neck, but eventually it blew loose. A wise person would go inside, but she folded her arms and stood firm.

Samson didn't seem to notice her. His entire attention was focused on Ren. There were fewer other children about - no doubt thanks to the weather - but the ones who were there may as well not have existed. The wind snatched Samson's words before they reached her, but it was clear he was giving Ren very specific instructions, which the boy was then attempting to follow. Ren was intent, eyebrows drawn close, tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth. The expression was familiar - it was how he'd looked when she'd taught him his first letters.

As much as she enjoyed watching his progress, her attention kept drifting to Samson. He was built like all templars - strong frame fit for heavy armour with defined forearms and a narrow waist. She'd never found the look attractive before, but as he lunged and struck at the dummy, her stomach tightened. It wasn't just the body. It was the way he kept glancing down at Ren and smiling gently, the way he patiently corrected Ren's posture even when he got it wrong five or six times.

In her mind, she kept playing back the events of the previous day. Samson coming closer, smiling, teasing. Her heart pounding, lips tingling. _Is he going to kiss me?_ Then the certainty, he was.

His body pressing hers against the low wall, the plunge to certain death below. No way to escape. Her rapid heartbeat roaring. His face nearer. His touch burning.

 _'Be a good little mage. Do as I say.'_

 _Up against the wall in the quiet corridor he patrolled. His body blocking off all escape. His head coming closer. Rough, demanding, unwelcome kisses. No escape._

She hadn't been touched since she'd escaped _him_ , nor had she wanted to be. She'd accepted that the love of her life would be her son. He was what she lived for. He was her purpose. And now Raleigh Samson of all people had disrupted that. For a few dizzying moments in her life, she had thought that maybe, maybe she wanted more.

Celeste gathered her hair again, twisted it again and tucked it under the collar of her jacket. Now she knew for certain, more was impossible. _He'd_ broken her. She'd never be able to be touched without thinking about him. If it was still this bad after a decade, it wasn't going anywhere. It was a part of her.

She wished Solana was around so she could talk it through with her.

Across the practice area, Ren spotted her and waved. Samson looked up and followed his gaze. He gave a hesitant smile.

She lifted the canteen she'd brought. Samson said a few words to Ren and he nodded and ran off in the other direction. And Samson started towards her.

There was no one else around in this weather to witness her making her peace offering.

"You should be inside, it's gonna storm," Samson said as he accepted the canteen.

She searched for something to say as he sipped the water, eventually settling on, "I have some of that gossip you wanted."

His eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really?"

Celeste wasn't usually one for gossip, but it filled the silence. "Word is that Rylen and Hawke spent the night together."

Samson chuckled. "And where did you hear that?"

"In the kitchens, where else? It was all Marsha could talk about."

Samson took another long drink from the canteen.

"You know Hawke from Kirkwall, don't you?" she asked.

He nodded. "We weren't exactly friends, but yeah. I helped him out once or twice. He said he'd put in a good word for me with the Templars in return. Don't know if he ever did. I thought he was with the terrorist?"

"Anders?"

"Yeah. The one who blew up half of Kirkwall."

She knew that was true. She also knew that the mage rebellion probably wouldn't have found legs if not for what he'd done. "Anders isn't so bad." Did she confess that he'd only come to the Inquisition because she'd begged him to?

Samson's eyes searched her face. Then, to her surprise, he said, "No, he isn't." He passed the canteen back. "I imagine he'll have some opinions on this development though. Perhaps we should make a run for it before he decides to plant explosives under Cullen's desk."

"That's if he ever finds out." At Samson's blank look, she added. "He's not here. He left a month ago."

Samson shook his head. "Who else has gone?"

"Well, the Inquisitor."

"I knew that one."

"He's supposedly in the Frostback Basin but I heard a rumour that no one truly knows where he is." It occurred to her that he was probably the last person she should be telling this, but his response was another chuckle.

Then the dreaded silence. He kept looking at her then looking away.

"I should probably get inside," she said eventually. "The, uh, weather."

"Yeah. I'll get back to Ren."

"Okay."

"Thanks for this." He pressed the canteen back into her hand, and the way he looked at her, she wasn't sure if he meant the water or the awkward conversation.

Even as he walked away, she felt a pull within, something beckoning her to follow him. But she'd felt that same pull on the battlements, unable to focus on anything but the movement of his lips as he spoke. Perhaps in another life she might have been able to trust it. In this one, she turned away and left him to the lesson. 

* * *

Solana wanted to make camp early and Cullen couldn't blame her. They'd had quite the eventful day. Plus, neither of them was usually out in the sun this long. Even with the shade of the trees, Solana's skin was pink and Cullen's eyelids were heavy.

They pooled some resources they'd brought from Skyhold and enjoyed a fine dinner of cured meats, dried fruits, nuts and biscuits. Solana was painted in the colours of the sunset as she talked, spinning stories from her days fighting the Blight.

At first they were enjoyable, her enthusiasm especially. The ridiculous things that Oghren would say, a young blushing Leliana who seemed nothing like the spymaster he knew. But at the centre of every story, was Alistair. Alistair the hero, Alistair the punch line. Alistair who could do no wrong in her eyes.

"And then Alistair ran forward and-"

"Enough."

She stared at him, clearly startled by the interruption at the peak of her story.

He let the sound of crickets fill the silence while he tried to find some way of explaining that didn't make him sound like the jealous jilted spouse he was. "Do you have any stories that aren't about how wonderful Alistair was?" _Well, so much for that._

Solana wrapped her arms around herself and he could see her withdrawing, disappearing back into her shell, into the woman he'd left at Skyhold with the fixed smile and the sad eyes. And he hated himself for it.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's alright. It's… I know I will never measure up to what he was in your eyes. I've known that from the start of this." He waved vaguely, encapsulating their relationship. "It's only that I don't particularly enjoy being reminded of it." There was no rescuing the evening now. He climbed to his feet. "Good night, Solana. You can come wake me at midnight for my watch."

"Cullen, wait."

He didn't. He didn't want to hear obligatory reassurances and he didn't trust himself not to make things worse.

* * *

Samson stared down at his hand of cards. It was shit. And Maker if he didn't have good coin riding on it.

Well, good in context. It was a few copper pieces of the stipend he was getting for helping with the army. Perhaps the equivalent of a drink at the tavern and, since he didn't dare go into the tavern, it wasn't even worth that. Still, in the context of the card games he played with his roommates, it was a chunk of change. He wasn't keen to see it go. Could he bluff his way to victory?

He opened his mouth to call the bet when a knock sounded at their door. Odd at this hour.

"I'll get it." he said instead, laying his cards face down. Maybe they'd look better after a break. Lightning flashed across the room and the candle in the middle of the small table guttered.

He pulled the door open to reveal Celeste. Her hair was damp. She was hugging herself and shivering. "You haven't seen Ren, have you?"

He shook his head. "Not since our lesson. Why, is he missing?"

Celeste bit her lip. "No. He's just late for dinner, that's all. I'm sure he's around. I checked the usual places, but I suppose the children will be playing indoors in this."

"Yeah, there's lots of interesting nooks and crannies in this old place for a boy to explore."

"That's true." She looked past him to the card game. He was certain his roommates were ogling her. Who wouldn't, right? Still, he fought the urge to step in front of her and block their view. "I'll go look. Thank you," she said.

"No problem."

He closed the door as she retreated and settled down with his cards again. He lost that hand - as he'd expected to - and then the next. He couldn't focus. His thoughts kept going to Ren.

It was likely he was exploring the depths of Skyhold with those new friends of his. He could imagine them making up all sorts of games involving dares and make believe demons. But the nagging feeling in his gut wouldn't go away. Ren was a small boy and he was new to the keep. What if he'd gotten lost in one of the dark corridors? What if he'd crawled into some nook and gotten stuck?

And then a new, even more terrifying thought. Samson had been seen associating with him. What if someone had kidnapped him or hurt him to get at Samson?

With this thought, he slammed his hand on the table, face up. "I'm out."

"Already?" the man who had his bed next to Samson's asked.

"Yeah. There's something… I've got to… sorry." He almost tripped over his chair as he made for the door, stopping only to grab his sword and his jacket. 

The wind howled through the courtyard, battering the stable doors. The rain came down in sheets. Samson found old Dennet securing the last of the horses.

"Haven't had a storm like this in a while," he said, without looking up. "I'm afraid we don't have any horses availa-" He turned and saw who it was he was speaking to. His eyes narrowed. "It's you."

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, I'm looking for a young boy. I think him and his friends play around here. Ren. Short, brown hair."

"I know the one," Dennet said.

"Do you know where he is?"

"No."

"Do you know where any of the boys are?"

"Inside, I'd imagine." Dennet turned back to what he was busy with. Wind whined though the rafters.

"The kid's missing. I need to find him. His mum's worried sick."

Dennet said nothing. Samson sighed and turned to leave. As he reached the stable door, Dennet called after him.

"His mum, wouldn't be a slight blonde thing? Hair done up like..." He indicated braids on the side of his head.

"Yeah, that's her."

Dennet frowned. "Well, there was a woman little while ago, went tearing out of the front gates like Corypheus himself was chasing her. Matched that description. The guards tried to stop her but-"

Samson didn't hear the rest of what Dennet said. His insides had turned to liquid and his feet carried him out into the rain again.

Anyone with a little sense would have taken the time to gather some sort of supplies, but he had no sense, only fear. Fear pounding in his chest, choking him. The mountain was treacherous at the best of times. In the dark, in the rain…. Maker, no. He couldn't even complete the thought.

He dashed out of the gates, but something snagged him. He was jerked around, found himself face-to-face with one of his guardians, the one with the accent who Cullen had yelled at.

"And where do you think you're going?" The man was drenched, rainwater was pouring from his helmet and he looked completely unimpressed with the current state of affairs.

How he'd found Samson, how he'd caught up with him, were questions for another time. "Celeste," Samson panted. "She's out there, and the kid too. I need to go."

"You're not to leave Skyhold, you know that."

"Did you hear me, man? They're out there. Alone. In this!"

"Yeah and that's what you'd say if you were rendezvousing with some other malcontent too."

"Malcon- I don't have time for this."

"Now, if you're really worried about someone we can take the matter to Knight-Captain Rylen and he can decide whether it's worth sending out a search party."

Samson shook his head. "There's no time!"

"Now listen here-"

Samson was done listening. He pulled back his fist and delivered a right hook to the man's jaw. The man reeled back, stunned. And Samson slipped from his grasp, pounding out of Skyhold's gates and into the storming dark beyond.


	83. Knight in red

The night was nothing but smudges of grey between the white of the snow and the dark of the starless sky above. Samson peered through the sleet, holding his hand over his eyes.

"Celeste!"

Already his voice was hoarse. He had no concept of where he was or where he was going. He wanted to run, but every step had to be deliberate, or else he'd risk losing his footing and plummeting down to the valley below.

 _Oh Maker, what if Celeste had already met that fate?_ Dennet had said she'd been running when she'd left.

"Celeste!"

He was so cold his limbs were numb, he could no longer feel the rain on his face. She'd been out longer than him. If she got lost she could die out here, die of the elements.

His feet crunched on the snowy ground - a feeling more than a sound. The wind wailed past his ears. It played tricks with his mind. He imagined this was something like how mages experienced the Fade. A confusing world with no clear up, no clear down, the sensation of being separated from his numbed body. It was only his thrumming pulse that kept him anchored. In the wind's wailing he thought he heard his name. Samsooon. Samsoon.

"Celeste!"

Samsooon…

His heart seized. Was that the wind or was that her voice? He spun around to face the direction it seemed to be coming from.

"Celeste!"

"Samson?!"

"Celeste!" He trudged towards the sound. "Celeste I'm here. Where are you?"

He couldn't see anything except the white and the grey and the black. And the white dropped off not far from where he stood.

"Celeste!" he called again. "Celeste, I can't see you!"

At the edge of his vision, a flash. Magic or distant lightning?

"Celeste? Was that you? Do it again!"

Another flash. He turned towards it.

"Again!"

Another flash, at the centre of his vision, but seemingly coming from the sky itself. His stomach sank. Maybe it was just lightning after all. His mind, playing tricks on him. A lost mageling in the Harrowing chamber.

"Samson?"

No, no that definitely wasn't the wind. Another flash. It was off the… he started running, to the Void with caution. He slid to a halt right at the very edge of the mountain, a steep drop below.

"Celeste!"

This time he hoped he didn't hear a response.

"Samson." Her voice, much closer. "Samson I'm here!"

Another flash of light, from below him, illuminated her. She was sprawled only about two meters down, thank the Maker.

"Are you hurt?" he called.

She held a ball of light in her hand and nodded, hovering it over her leg. It was bent at an unnatural angle.

"Hold on, I'm coming down!"

"No! Ren. You must find him."

Samson searched for a way to reach her. A _safe_ way to reach her. Wouldn't do to break his own leg. A little way away there was a more gradual slope to her level. When she saw him approaching, she started shaking her head wildly. "Raleigh please, please you must find Ren."

He ignored her pleas, his heart pounded so fast and so hard that it was shivering more than beating. The back of his throat tasted bitter with fear. He didn't trust himself to speak. He shouldered out of his jacket. It was damp through, but warmer than what she wore, which seemed to just be what she usually worked in. Her hair was plastered to her face and she trembled, no doubt with both pain and cold. He wrapped the jacket around her and pulled her close.

"Ren, you have to, you have to find him. Please, Raleigh. Please."

"I will." He gathered her into his arms and she screamed when he moved her leg. "Shh…" He held her head to his chest. "Shhh. It's alright. Everything's gonna be fine. You'll see. We just need to get you out of the rain, alright? It's too cold up here."

"Ren…"

"Yeah, I know." He rose and started towards the treacherous slope, moving carefully despite his every desire to hurry.

Celeste was light, but she wriggled in his grasp. "Leave me, leave me. You have to find him."

"I will! I will find him." Samson tried to keep her still. "Shhh. I'll find him, I promise. But unless I get you somewhere warmer, you're gonna freeze. And how would he like that, hey? His mum frozen? Not at all, I'll tell you. Not at all. So let me help you first and then I'll find the boy, alright?"

She buried her head against his neck, but didn't respond.

It was easier to carry her after that and he managed his way up the slope. Skyhold was directly above them, an imposing sentinel, a black shape against the even blacker sky. But they were around the other side of her now, getting to her gates would take too long. There had to be some kind of hollow or overhang that he could set Celeste down beneath.

"Can you light the way with your magic?" he asked.

She didn't speak, but held out her hand and shone light ahead of them. The Maker must have been with them, because he found a cave, dug into the side of the mountain. It was shallow and had he had choices he would have chosen something deeper. It didn't offer much protection from the cold, but it provided a dry spot out of the wind. He set Celeste down carefully. She was the colour of the snow in the light from her hand. Frightened, in pain. His chest ached to see her like this.

"Now, do you have any idea where I might find Ren?"

Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. "There was a dare. They told him to get blood lotus during the - during the storm. Maker, Raleigh. If something's happened to him…"

He squeezed her hand. It was icy. "I'll find him. But I need you to do something, if you can manage it. We're gonna need a fire so I can find you again. You think you can do that?"

The wind whipped through the plants and small trees nearby. Her eyes flew to them, then down to her leg, then back to his face. She bit her lip and she nodded.

"If not, I can gather some wood before I-"

"No." She shook her head. "No, go find Ren. I'll manage."

Samson realised after a few minutes that leaving his coat with Celeste was probably not the brightest of his ideas. He was wet and freezing, shivering so hard that he could hardly move forward. And he had to find one very small boy on a very big mountain.

Blood lotus…

He closed his eyes and pictured the herb. It was a reed, wasn't it? Reeds grew near water. Would Ren know that? It was as good a lead as any. Water… there was a river running through the valley where Skyhold's army camped. Would Ren go that far on a dare? No, storms were scary. He wouldn't travel further than he had to. So he'd go to the source. Samson squinted up at Skyhold, trying to orientate himself. Then he trudged onward.

***

The wind had died down some by the time Samson reached the river. He listened for the rush of water, but what he heard first was barking.

 _Andraste's blighted ashes!_

He propelled himself towards the sound, hardly caring about safety now. His legs wouldn't move fast enough. The barking was accompanied by the yelping, snarling noise that could only be one thing: wolves.

Ren was the perfect prey. Small, alone. But if they'd caught him already, they'd be silent. Samson unsheathed his sword, thankful he'd thought to grab it as he'd left. Out of the gloom, beyond the sleet, blurs of shadows danced in circles: Growling, woofing, whining.

They seemed almost otherworldly. His feet hit water, the shock of cold made him cry out, but the wolves didn't pay him any mind. They already had their prey in their sights.

But someone else heard him.

"Hello! Is someone there! Help me! I'm up here!"

He followed the sound, splashed forward as fast as he could. The wolves were circling a tree, and up in the branches was a little grey figure, waving frantically. It jerked backwards as one of the wolves jumped. Smart kid, but the tree wasn't high enough to truly keep him safe. Another wolf jumped and Ren whacked it on the snout with what looked like a branch.

"Hey!" Samson shouted. "You want dinner? Come get me!"

The wolves ignored him. Another leapt for Ren.

Samson picked up a river rock and lobbed it at the creature. It yelped and spun. Its amber eyes glinted in the weak moonlight as it pulled back its lips, showing its sharp teeth. The other wolves turned too, focusing their attention on Samson. Good.

They started to fan out. No doubt they aimed to surround him. Less good.

The wolf he'd riled before rose on its hind legs. Samson braced his legs and readied his sword. It leaped at him. Its heavy body hit his chest with almost enough force to knock him over. But he'd been ready for it. He sliced up its underbelly. The wolf gnashed its jaws a little too close to Samson's ear for comfort, but when he pushed its paws from his shoulders, it fell down dead in the snow.

"Anyone else want to try?" he called to the pack.

One of the wolves darted forward, then back again. Another came at him from the side, but as soon as he swung his sword at it, it backed away.

"Off with you!" he shouted, waving the weapon.

The first wolf made another attempt, then thought better of it and retreated to his fellows, ears lying flat. With one final look at Ren, they turned tail and scampered back into the night.

"Ser Samson?" Ren's small voice asked from the tree above.

"You can come down now, lad."

Ren swung down from the branch and landed on the ground in a spray of snow. He ran towards Samson, bowling into him at the same speed as the wolf - although he was about half as heavy. He buried his head against Samson's stomach. The poor lad was shivering and it took Samson a moment to realise he was crying. Samson sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around the boy.

"There there, lad, it's alright. They're gone now."

Ren's little body shook.

"What are you doing out here anyways?"

Ren mumbled against his shoulder, something about blood lotus.

"Hey now, I can't hear you like that."

Ren pulled away slightly. His small worried face stared into Samson's, illuminated only by the moon. Rain poured down his cheeks, dripped off his hair. It was impossible to tell whether he was still crying. "Mikel said I could join the group if I completed the dare."

Mikel again. Samson was going to have a word with this Mikel.

"And the dare was to come get blood lotus in the middle of a storm, was it?" His anger was barely contained.

"I'm sorry." Ren's lower lip trembled and Samson realised too late that he thought the anger had been directed at him. "I'm really sorry. I didn't realise how bad it would be. I thought... I thought it would be like the storms back home."

Back in the city all there was to worry about during a storm was puddles and whether the Chantry roof would get struck.

"You did good with those wolves. Good sense climbing into the tree like that. Now come on, we best be getting back to your mum, wind's picking up again."

He wasn't quite sure how to break it to Ren that his mother had been injured while looking for him. Ren clung to Samson's arm as they walked back. Eventually he asked. "Aren't we going to Skyhold?"

"Skyhold entrance is too far in this." Samson already had to raise his voice over the wind. "Your mum's just down here, don't worry."

"Why's she out here?"

"Well, she came looking for you, didn't she?" He scanned the mountainside for light. The rain was picking up again too and... was that more snow?

There, a small orange glow. She'd managed to light a fire.

When they got a bit closer, Samson knelt to bring himself eye level with Ren again. "Before we see your mum, I need to tell you something."

Ren's eyes were wide with fear, as if he already sensed what was coming.

"Your mum had a fall earlier. Now, she's going to be alright. We're going to help her and when this clears up we'll take her to a healer, alright? You're going to need to be a little brave."

"She fell? Because she came to find me?" His lower lip was trembling again. Poor kid.

Samson wasn't sure how to comfort him. He patted his shoulder. "It's going to be fine, Ren. Come on, sooner we get back to her, sooner we can help her."

* * *

Celeste scanned the murky darkness beyond the cave. The pain in her leg was almost overwhelming, but the tightness in her chest was worse. Every minute was agony. Samson didn't have a jacket. What if he froze before he found Ren? What if he found Ren and something awful had already happened to him? What if he never found Ren?

The minutes crawled by. She was starting to think about trying to make for the castle, using one of the branches she'd gathered with her magic as a walking stick. It would be difficult, and it would take ages, but once she was there she could arrange a search party. It was certainly better than doing nothing.

Something moved beyond the cave. She squinted at it. Another tree in the wind?

But she found it again. A shape walking towards her. A single shape.

Samson? Samson returning alone. Her heart clenched painfully and the grief that flooded her was colder than the heart of this storm.

Then another shape, a smaller shape, darted out from behind Samson and came towards her. Came _running_ towards her.

"Ren!"

He flew into her arms, frozen and wet and crying. "Mom, I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry." He sobbed against her shoulder and then she was crying too but with relief. Her baby, here, alive, safe. She squeezed him to her. "I didn't know it would be like this, I didn't know." He shook with the tears.

"Shh, baby, shh. It's alright, you're safe, you're safe, I'm here." She stroked his hair as she'd done when he'd been much younger.

Samson entered, dripping and shivering. He took off his shirt and rang it out, sitting in front of the fire. He glanced at her and smiled.

"Thank you," she mouthed to him.

She'd managed to use the will power spell Solana had taught her for lifting water to lift nearby wood and bring it inside. It had been wet through, so it had taken a couple of fire spells before it had caught. But she'd kept building it, kept adding to it, making it bigger and brighter as a beacon for Samson. Now Samson peeled Ren from her grasp and instructed him to take off his jacket and sit by the fire. He did so reluctantly, eyes scanning her constantly.

"I suggest we spend the night here," Samson said eventually. "It's only getting worse out there now, and I don't fancy navigating back to Skyhold with such poor visibility. It's a wonder none of us fell off the mountain as is. Not for want of trying on your part, that is."

Celeste managed a weak smile at that.

"So that means we're going to have to set that leg. Ren, you're going to help me."

"Yes ser."

"You're going to find me two thick, straight sticks or pieces of bark. They don't need to be perfect. You're not going to wander far, alright?"

Ren nodded. He gave a single trepidatious look outside before squaring his shoulders and heading out.

Samson shifted closer to her. He dropped his voice. "How are you doing?"

"I'm well. I'm so very well. You found him. You rescued him." She was babbling. He simply smiled in response.

He touched her calf, barely brushing the skin. "I'm going to have to remove your boot. It's going to hurt, I'm afraid."

She nodded, mentally preparing herself.

"You want something to bite down on? My belt perhaps?"

She glanced outside. She could make out Ren's shape stooping down to gather wood. "No," she said. "No, I'll be fine."

Samson's pale skin almost glowed in the firelight, the rough landscape of scars even more visible now than it had been that day in the pantry. He held onto her boot with both hands. "You sure?"

She nodded again. He tugged. The pain was blinding and white hot. She tried to keep silent, but it jerked the sound up from her belly, a scream that brought Ren running.

"Mom! Mom, are you alright?" He dropped the wood haphazardly at the cave entrance and flew to her side.

Perhaps the belt hadn't been such a bad idea.

"It's almost off," Samson said. "Ren, can you bring me those sticks I asked for please?" Ren scrambled away from her, muttering quick apologies.

Celeste squeezed her eyes shut and tried to swallow the fresh agony that shot up her leg. Then it was over, the boot was off and Samson was reaching up under her skirt. Her heart started racing as his warm hands found the top of her stockings, just above the knee. He rolled them down slowly. When she opened her eyes, she found him looking into her face.

He was just helping her. There was nothing inappropriate in what he was doing. Yet at the instant their eyes met, it felt different, it felt intimate. Was it her imagination or did his touch linger?

"Here, Ser Samson." Ren handed him the sticks and Samson broke her gaze. The strange pleasure was immediately replaced by pain as he pulled the stocking over her lower calf. It was already swollen and bruised. Ren's hand flew to his mouth.

"It looks worse than it is," Samson assured him. He selected two of the longer sticks, then his eyes met Celeste's again. She expected him to offer his belt but he gave her a smile. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to tear your dress for bandages."

She nodded. To her surprise, he started laughing. He shook his head as he found the seam.

"What's funny?" Ren wanted to know.

Samson's eyes rose to meet hers again. There was meaning in the look, but then he glanced at Ren. "Nothing, lad. I'm just relieved you're both fine is all."

In a swift motion, he tore her skirt open to the knee. The ripping sound was not a pleasant one and she looked away.

"Ser Samson, may I ask you something?" Ren asked.

"You may."

"How do you know all this?"

"I take it you don't mean how do I know how to tear a woman's dress apart?"

Celeste shot a look at Samson, but Ren seemed to think that was funny.

He giggled. "No, I mean like with the wolves."

"Wolves?" Celeste tried to sit straighter, even as pain pierced through her at the movement. "What wolves?"

"Easy now." Samson rested a hand on her knee. "Everything turned out okay, didn't it? And in answer to your question, Ren, as part of your Templar training you go through basic survival. Wouldn't do to succumb to the elements while hunting for apostates, would it?"

Celeste wanted to know more about the wolves and it wasn't lost on her how Samson was avoiding the subject.

"Did you ever hunt apostates, Ser Samson?" Ren's eyes were wide.

"Only your mum just now." He grinned. "I was stationed at the Circle right up until I was thrown out."

"Thrown out?" Ren shifted even closer to Samson.

"Yeah." He ripped another strip of fabric. "I broke the rules and they asked me to leave."

"What rules?"

"Ren." Celeste had heard the story, she'd seen the pain when Samson had spoke of it.

But Samson shook his head. "Naw, it's alright. I don't mind telling the boy." To Ren he said, "The Circle where I worked was very unfair to mages. Eventually they weren't permitted to talk to their families or friends at all, not even letters. I had a friend, a mage who worked in the smithy and had fixed some things for me as a favour. He asked me to take letters to the girl he loved in the village. I was caught doing so."

"They threw you out because of passing letters?"

"Yeah, bet you were thinking it was something worse, hey?"

Ren nodded. "I thought it was because of Corypheus."

Celeste's insides jerked. She hadn't found a way to tell Ren about Samson and Corypheus yet, but Samson chuckled. "Naw, wrong way around, kid. I joined Corypheus because I didn't have anywhere else to go. A bad decision, and one I ain't proud of."

Ren didn't seem surprised. Did that mean they'd discussed it already? She examined Samson's face as he worked, now comparing the sticks that Ren had brought him. She'd felt so many tangled things for him in the past few months, but never admiration. Ren had been through a terrifying night, filled with horrors she didn't even know of yet. His mother was injured, he was no doubt scared and cold, but Samson was keeping him calm, keeping him busy and entertaining him.

One look at her son showed her she wasn't the only one feeling that way about Samson now. Ren's entire focus was on the man, paying rapt attention to everything he did. And as far as role models went, she found she didn't mind this one.

Who would have thought?

"Alright, now, this is what you do for broken bones if you can't get to a healer right away," Samson told Ren. "It's called a splint."

"A splint," Ren repeated.

"So what we want to do is stop the leg from moving. Moving it might make the injury worse. So you find something like these sticks here and you strap them, like so. And you want to strap the foot too, right? Because the foot moves the leg a bit."

The wood was rough against her skin, and the pressure against her swollen leg was painful. But Samson was gentle and practiced in his movements. He talked Ren through every step of the process and before long, her leg was completely bound and stretched out in front of the fire.

"Now I've got another job for you, Ren. If you're willing?"

Ren nodded enthusiastically, rising up on his knees.

"Do you know what elfroot looks like?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think you could go out and try find some? Don't go too far, mind. This isn't a dare."

Ren moved towards the cave entrance.

"Wait!" Celeste reached for him. "No, you don't have to get elfroot. I'm fine." The wind was howling again, she could hear the lash of the rain. "Don't go out there, Ren."

"I won't go far, mom." He gave her a small smile then ducked his head and ran outside.

Samson stood and tossed the spare sticks on the fire. They sputtered and popped, filling the cave with fragrant smoke.

"You shouldn't have made him do that," Celeste said.

"He wants to help you. He blames himself for what happened. It will make him feel better." He settled down beside her, at a respectable distance. "It's been quite the eventful night for the lad."

"He said something about wolves?"

"Yeah, there were a few wolves." Samson smiled at her again. She was propped up against the cave wall so even though he was only a head taller than her, he had significant height advantage. "Your son was doing a good job of fighting them off before I arrived. I suppose those lessons are paying off."

"Don't make light, Samson."

"See, I've got to make light. There's no point you worrying about it now, and you have to stay strong for the boy, don't you? If you must know, he was up a tree. He's got a good brain, that one. He's a good boy."

"If he had a good brain he wouldn't come out in this on a stupid dare."

Samson inclined his head. "True, but he's a city boy. I figure he failed to take into account the mountain, snow and, well, wildlife, that might get in his way. He'll know better in future."

Celeste buried her face in her hands and took a deep breath. "I don't know how to thank you. If you hadn't been here…"

"Well I was, so none of that. Plus, it's nice to be the hero for a change. Not a role I'm accustomed to."

"Is that what you were laughing about earlier?" She looked up at him, his brow furrowed. Then he seemed to remember.

"No." He dropped his voice. "I was laughing because, well... It's best I not say."

"No, go on. I want to hear it now."

The corner of his mouth twisted upwards, his gaze lingered on her face. "I was just thinking that wasn't how I imagined ripping your clothes off."

Her heart nearly stopped. She stared at him. _Had he really said that?_ He looked away, and she could swear she saw colour rising in his cheeks.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"So you _have_ imagined ripping my clothes off?" she responded, finding her voice.

He stared resolutely at the fire. "Is this a trick question?"

Heat coursed through her, desire blindsiding her. She wanted to say something, make some move to reassure him. In her mind she pictured rising up and kissing him. Wouldn't that be just like the stories? A dashing rescue, a kiss in the firelight. But she was paralysed, because she knew it wouldn't just be a kiss. Kissing lead to _other things_. Other things like his voice had promised when he'd pressed against her up on the battlements.

"Raleigh, I'm sorry."

"Don't talk nonsense." He wrapped his arms around his knees. "You don't owe me anything."

"I owe you my life."

He looked at her again, scanning her face. His expression was difficult to read. His eyes were sad. He looked… frightened? "I don't know what I would have done if I had lost you tonight." No hint of humour now, his voice raw with meaning.

She swallowed. Not sure what to say.

She was spared finding the words by Ren returning, happily brandishing the elfroot.


	84. The dawn

Dawn crept up over the valley. Samson hadn't slept. He'd kept watch. He hadn't minded.

Celeste and Ren were curled up together, the mother holding her son like he was still no more than a babe. The boy, after his traumatic night, welcomed the affection. It gave Samson a lump in his throat to see this little family of two.

And it stirred something in him, some latent desire that had nothing to do with Celeste's clothes. It filled his chest with an ache that spread down to the palms of his hands.

In the quiet hours while the storm was calming and the light was rising, he dared imagine what it would be like to be a part of that unit. What if he were here not as a concerned friend, but as a father? He remembered the way Ren had run to him, wrapped his arms around his legs. He remembered holding him until he stopped shaking. That had felt right. Guiding the boy, protecting him and now watching over him. And Celeste… caring for her, holding her in his arms as he carried her to this cave, comforting her. He'd desired women before but never, _never_ , had he felt anything like this.

If only she knew his fantasies had very little to do with undressing her. There was a house where he lived with the two of them. Somewhere small, in a village where no one knew who he was. He'd make them breakfast every morning before going off to some boring, ordinary job. Like a woodcutter or a baker. Imagine that, Raleigh Samson, a baker. And in the evenings they'd be waiting for him. Smiling, happy, safe. He wanted it so badly it hurt.

Celeste stirred and he pulled his mind back to reality and crawled over to her. She grimaced in pain. He took her hand and pressed elfroot into it.

"Here you go, give that a chew."

***

"Look!" Ren pointed up the hill. "Do you think they're looking for us?"

Samson squinted where the boy pointed. Soldiers, not scouts. "Yeah, no doubt."

They'd left the cave as soon as it was light enough to do so. The storm had blown itself out, leaving a pale lavender sky and slush that smelled like spring. He estimated they were about half way to Skyhold's main gates now.

He counted five soldiers and, as they drew nearer, he made one of them out to be the man who'd tried to stop him. His whole jaw was now swollen and blue. Oops.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to feel bad. Celeste was safe in his arms, her own arms wrapped around his neck and her cheek resting on his chest. She was still a bit out of it thanks to the elfroot, so she didn't comment.

Ren waved at the men, catching their attention. "We're here! We're safe!"

One of them pointed and they started downhill towards them. Ren surprised Samson by gripping his arm, just above the elbow. His wide green eyes looked up at him.

"Do you think I'll be in trouble?" he whispered.

"Nah, lad. You didn't break any rules. I think they were just worried about you."

The soldiers fanned out as they got closer, not unlike the wolves. The man with the swollen jaw was at their centre and as soon as he was near enough he put his hands on his hips and declared, "Raleigh Samson, you're under arrest."

"What!" Ren was having none of it.

"Just let me get the girl to safety and then I'll come with you."

The man blocked his path. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

Samson made to step around him. "Look, I'm sorry about your jaw, alright?"

Two of the other men stood shoulder to shoulder with him, arms folded. The effect was almost comical. The other two came up from behind. "You were not to leave Skyhold," Ser Bluejaw said. "That was the condition of your so-called freedom, Samson. A condition that you accepted."

The urge to punch the man again was steadily building, but Samson kept his cool. He wasn't going to cause a scene with Ren here and Celeste in her vulnerable state.

"I'm not arguing, but I've got an injured woman here." In case he was blind. "Surely you'll let me take her to the infirmary?"

"I'll take her," one of the men behind him said.

"What's happening?" Ren asked.

Samson wasn't sure about handing Celeste over to some stranger, but any alternative seemed more likely to cause her pain at this point. Wasn't like he could start a fight while holding her. So Samson turned and let the soldier get his arms under her.

Celeste chose that minute to come to her senses. She thrashed wildly, slipping from his grip. "Who's this?! What's happening?! Raleigh!" She balanced on her good leg between them, leaning against Samson's chest. He held her upright, worried she might try to put weight on her other foot.

"Easy there. It's alright, Celeste. I need to go speak to Knight-Captain Rylen. These nice men are going to take you to the infirmary, alright? They're Cullen's men. See the uniform? You're safe."

Her eyes darted to the assembled men. Over her head, he added to his captors, "You _will_ take me to see Rylen, right? You're not just gonna throw me back in the dungeon?"

"What if we are?" Bluejaw challenged.

"You can't!" Ren insisted. "You can't take him to the dungeon. He rescued me. We'd be dead without him, both of us."

"Hush, lad," Samson said softly.

"Rylen will want to know about this," the man who'd been about to take Celeste said.

"Fine. Rylen then the dungeon. Come along, Samson."

But Celeste was not easily persuaded. She stared into his face, confused, probably half lost in elfroot dreams.

"It's going to be fine, love," he said the word automatically, nothing more than a turn of phrase like he'd heard the old bakerwoman in Kirkwall use. But Celeste's eyes widened. She took more meaning from the endearment. He could have corrected himself, but didn't. It wasn't like it wasn't true. Besides, she likely wouldn't even remember this. He gently disengaged her hands from him and was relieved when she let the soldier scoop her up.

The two who'd flanked Bluejaw, stepped forward and took Samson's arms. He knew it wasn't because he was at risk of escaping. It was about humiliation, about escorting him in as if they'd caught him and he hadn't surrendered. He swallowed his pride.

What he hadn't counted on - and they surely hadn't either - was young Ren trotting along beside him. Ren didn't stop from the instant they laid hands on Samson, no matter how much Samson urged him to keep quiet. The result being that he was dragged through the main gates to the chorus of "Samson's a hero! Leave him be! You can't lock him up! He saved me!"

Eventually one of the soldiers turned and threatened to take Ren to the dungeon if he didn't shut up. Ren stood with his arms folded and his chin sticking out and Samson found himself saying, "If you so much as touch a hair on that boy's head I'll make you wish you never found us."

Either his tone really was that intimidating or his name still meant something because the soldier made no further threats. Ren, for his part, followed quietly the rest of the way to Rylen's office.

Bluejaw rapped on the door and called inside, "We found Samson, Knight-Captain."

"Come in."

As they entered, Hawke, who had been leaning against the desk, stood up straight and tucked his hands behind his back like a guilty schoolboy. Celeste's sources were good it seemed.

The amusement didn't last long. Samson's handlers pushed him to his knees before the desk. Rylen strode to stand before him.

"So, I'm to understand you had an agreement with Commander Cullen that you weren't to leave Skyhold. Is that true?"

Samson bowed his head. He opened his mouth to answer when there was some movement by the door and then Ren was standing in front of him.

"You can't put Ser Samson in the dungeon. He saved my life! And my mom's!"

Samson's stomach jerked. "Ren, be still, will you?"

The boy looked at him and then back at Knight-Captain Rylen.

"You have quite the advocate, Samson," Hawke chimed in.

Ren's bow furrowed. "What's an advocate?" he asked Samson softly.

"It's someone who defends someone else," he explained.

Ren jutted his chin out again. "In that case, yes he does. If you're going to lock someone in the dungeon for what happened last night, it should be me. Not him. I left the keep on a dare. He came to rescue me."

"We're not in the habit of throwing children into the dungeon," Rylen said. He was smiling.

"Ser, if I may." Bluejaw stepped forward. "Letting Samson out of his cell was a trial to begin with. He may not seem it, but he is a dangerous man."

"I did not know that!" Rylen's eyebrows rose and he looked to Hawke. "Did you hear that, Hawke? General Samson is _dangerous_. And here I thought he was a trinket Commander Cullen picked up on his last trip to Orlais." His eyes narrowed as they came to rest on Bluejaw again. "I'm aware that the Western Approach is considered something of a backwater, but I didn't manage to miss an entire war. I do know who we're dealing with."

Hawke just smirked.

Bluejaw shifted uncomfortably. "Then you see why he needs to be locked up."

"That's not what I see. Do you want to hear what I see?" Rylen leaned back against his desk with his arms folded. "Well, I'm going to tell you regardless. I see before me a man on his knees for rescuing a child. Do you know what else I see? I see you. You're the one who was on duty the night I arrived, aren't you? The one who was meant to be watching him. You know the night I mean. Was that your plan? Arrive just in time to save his life, but not before he got a little beat up? More like _a lot_ beat up. I'd tread carefully if I were you. You've played your hand too early."

Ren's mouth hung open as he tried to follow what was happening. Samson had to fight back a smile. He liked this Rylen.

Bluejaw thrust his shoulders back indignantly. "He assaulted me! He punched me!"

Rylen turned away and scribbled something on a page on the desk. "I'm not sure if you've heard the expression. It might be more the sort of thing we say in backwaters like the Approach. You never get between a mother varghest and her young." He pulled out a sheet of parchment and passed it to the man. "Would you be so kind as to take this to Sister Leliana?"

"I…" Bluejaw looked down at the page and up at Rylen again as if wondering whether it was worth telling him he wasn't a messenger.

Rylen spared him the effort. "It's regarding your new assignment. I figure it would be best if we asked her to lend one of her people to watching Samson. Let you off the hook as it were."

Bluejaw blinked and nodded.

"Dismissed," Rylen added, as if it should have been obvious from context and Bluejaw was a bit slow.

"Yes ser." He turned and left, dazed as a fresh Templar in a whore house.

"Go on, all of you." Rylen waved his hands at the men holding Samson as if they were no more than pesky birds. They mumbled their yessers and followed Bluejaw out.

Samson only stood when he heard the door click. "My thanks, Knight-Captain." Words he'd never thought he'd hear himself say again.

Rylen inclined his head. "Where's the lass? She come back in one piece?"

"For the most part. She's in the infirmary."

Rylen grimaced. "Well, you two best go see to her then."

"Yes ser, thank you." Samson placed a hand on Ren's shoulder and began steering him out of the room.

"One thing, Samson?"

He turned. "Yes, ser?"

"Please don't punch any more of my men."

* * *

Hawke chuckled as the door shut behind Samson and the boy. "Papa varghest Samson, never would have guessed it."

"I imagine he's as surprised as you are," Rylen said, moving back behind his desk. Then he offered a smile that sent shivers down Hawke's spine. "I trust you didn't come see me at the crack of dawn to discuss Samson?"

Hawke folded his arms. "No, although that was certainly fun to witness."

Rylen reached onto the top shelf of Cullen's bookcase and drew down a box. Hawke's heart gave a little squeeze when he realised what it was. Lyrium.

"Do you mind if I….?" Rylen asked, indicating the box.

Hawke shook his head. Rylen set the box down and opened it.

"Isn't this a sacred ritual?" Hawke settled in the guest chair, feeling a little voyeuristic.

"Ritual, yes. Sacred... depends who you ask. To me it's more a daily necessity."

Even when talking practical matters, Rylen's voice was beautiful. _Maker, if I'd known how good Starkhaven accents could sound, I might have struck further north than Kirkwall._

He watched Rylen's practiced movements as he started laying out the apparatus. "Seems complex."

"It's not really. Most of this is just about avoiding touching the raw dust. You see, here?" He opened a small container. Blue powder glowed within. "Deadly to touch."

He sprinkled some out onto a wooden spoon, lying flat on the table, then he cut the powder with a small, curved knife. "Now I have to make sure that it's fine enough to dissolve properly, else it will burn my throat. I wouldn't want that."

He glanced up at Hawke and Hawke almost choked. _Was that just...did he just...?_

But Rylen returned his attention to the lyrium. "So now I have my measured dose." He picked up a yellow clay contraption and twisted off a nozzle top part. Then, carefully, ever so carefully, he poured in the powder. He squeezed in water too, from a small skin that was part of the set. Then he closed the clay thing, plugged a hole in the nozzle with what Hawke had mistaken for another knife, turned it around and, holding the 'knife', he twisted a lever on the top, stirring up the mixture.

"Firstly, that's _very_ complex." Hawke pointed out. "Secondly, you look like an idiot."

He eyed Rylen's expression, nervous that perhaps he should have kept quiet.

But Rylen laughed. "We used to call it 'churning butter' in the barracks. And that was the more tasteful of the names."

So much for sacred.

He turned the thing upside down again, removed the plug and held a philter over the nozzle instead. Then, he turned it the right way around and blue liquid lyrium trickled into the glass.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

Hawke nodded. "Looks more like mage lyrium now. Why don't they give it to you premixed? Not enough of a ritual?"

"I suspect that has something to do with it. But this also allows us to choose our own strength. The general rule is you go with the very least you need to get through the day. If you're going into battle, you take a little extra. Go into battle against mages and you take a lot extra. Just, not enough to overdose."

"And the Chantry wouldn't want mages to have those options."

"No, I imagine they wouldn't."

They stared the philter again. The lyrium had stopped trickling in.

"Does it disturb you?" Rylen asked. His gaze lifted to meet Hawke's. "That I'm a Templar?"

"Only if you intend to put me in a Circle."

Rylen smiled. "I can think of a few positions I'd want to put you in. That's not one of them."

Hawke's stomach flipped. Usually he was good with a quick comeback, but something about Rylen left him speechless, fighting for breath, nevermind smartarse comments.

Rylen held up a finger as if to say _hold that thought_. He detached the yellow device and lifted the philter to his lips. He closed his eyes and he muttered a few words before downing the contents.

He sat with his eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them, they focused on Hawke. "Now that's out of the way, what _did_ you come here for?"

Hawke drew a deep breath. Once more he questioned what he was getting himself into. He'd felt more confused when he'd left Varric than he'd been before he went to speak to him. He'd spent a restless night tossing, thinking about Rylen, images from their night together playing at the front of his mind.

"That bad, is it?" Rylen asked when he didn't respond immediately.

"No, not bad. Well, I hope not bad." Hawke wasn't sure what to do with his hands. He rested them on his hips, then thought better of it and folded them in front of his chest. "I was wondering if we might have drinks tonight."

"Drinks?" Rylen asked, with eyebrows raised. The way he said the word hinted that he thought it might have been a euphemism.

"On me this time," Hawke said.

" _On_ you?"

The glint in Rylen's eyes said that he was teasing, but even so heat pooled in Hawke's core. He was so close to saying they could skip the drinks. Instead, he cleared his throat. "I don't… I don't really know what this is, what it's going to be. As you've gathered, things are… complicated. But I enjoyed the other night. I enjoyed spending time with you. I haven't really enjoyed anything in quite a while. And I-"

"Hawke, stop." Rylen held up his palms. "It's alright, you don't have to explain. We'll keep things casual. No strings. And _drinks_ would be nice."

* * *

 _A/N The workings of the lyrium apparatus are a best guess (with thanks to etaeternum who brainstormed it with me!). I remember someone once joking that lyrium was 'like koolaid'. Since Samson refers to it as dust, but we see people drinking it, that made sense to me. I like the idea that Templars are permitted to mix their own doses. This explains why people smuggle lyrium (e.g. in Kirkwall) even though they're given their allotment, because if they just take extra strength the whole time then they're going to run out before month end and because it's so crazy addictive of course many do. Mages, on the other hand, are given the weakest koolaid you can imagine - you know, when it's so weak it's sour? - and that's what we pick up in the games and why no one worries about mages getting addicted._

 _From staring at far too many pictures of Cullen's little lyrium box, the best I can figure is that all of the strange items in it exist to allow him to mix a dose without having to actually touch the powder._

 _Of course, this might be like that scene in The Little Mermaid, where Scuttle is trying to explain how one uses a fork!_


	85. Fragile

Rain pattered on the roof of Cullen's tent. He hunched at the entrance, watching the puddles grow. This was not good for travelling. The mud would slow them down significantly.

Solana's tent was set up beside his. He imagined her curled up on her bed roll, breathing deeply. What would happen if he went to join her? Say he was sorry for the previous night's behaviour? Would she welcome him? The fear that she would turn from him was enough to halt his fantasy. Instead, he dug through his pack and pulled out a folded leather bundle. With a glance at Solana's tent, he unwrapped it.

Two vials shone up at him. They weren't enough.

He'd had to be careful when packing; careful that Rylen didn't notice what he took, careful that he didn't take enough that Josephine would detect the loss. He hadn't imagined it would be much of a problem having a limited supply. He had expected to be able to set the pace and the route of the journey. If it had taken them through cities, he would have been able to barter for more… but it hadn't.

Of course, when he'd realised he'd be travelling through the forest, he'd cut down on the intake. With the result that he'd ended up with a persistent headache and ill humour. Now his fingers shook as he prepared the morning's dose.

No, the rain wouldn't be good at all.

* * *

Celeste was in one of the narrow cots along the very edge of the infirmary and she was staring up at the roof when Samson arrived with Ren. Ren sank to his knees beside her and took her hand. "It's me, mom. Ren. I'm here."

She blinked slowly and turned her head. She smiled at him, touching his cheek with her other hand. Samson hated seeing her like this, like her mind wasn't even there. She turned her face back up to the ceiling.

"I was in the Harrowing chamber. Cullen was there."

Ren looked at Samson.

"Elfroot," he said quietly. To Celeste he said, "How are you feeling?"

She blinked again. "Strange. I feel like I'm floating. Warm all over."

He chuckled. "Sounds like fun."

"Can you feel the sunshine, Raleigh?"

"I do, it's a beautiful day." He patted Ren's back to reassure him. Must be quite disconcerting for him to hear his mother speaking nonsense.

"I wish it could shine like this every day. It's been so long." She closed her eyes. He waited for her to say more, but her chest started to rise and fall in a rhythm that indicated she'd fallen asleep.

The surgeon came to speak to them, said that one of the mages had stopped by and done some healing on her leg. A couple more treatments and she'd be good as new. In the meantime, it was best she slept.

The two of them sat together for a time, watching her. Ren held her hand.

"Ser Samson?" he said eventually.

"Yes, lad?"

"I'm hungry."

Of course he was. The poor boy probably hadn't eaten since before dinner the previous day. Samson berated himself for not thinking about it sooner. "Well then, let's see what they've got for you in the kitchens. I'm sure they'll want to hear how your mum's doing too."

On his way out, he caught sight of something on the potions tray. A few sprigs of blood lotus, amongst the elfroot and other herbs. He slipped one into his pocket.

Samson left Ren in the kitchen surrounded by fussing women intent upon feeding him his own weight in leftovers while he regaled them with tales of his great adventure.

Samson, on the other hand, had a score to settle.

He'd dealt with bullies before. When he was the scrawny, new, five-year-old Templar recruit, he'd been kicked into shape by the arrogant noble brats. The Chantry had turned a blind eye, so he'd had to fend for himself. When he'd come into his own, he'd made it his business to see that not happen to any of the new kids.

This Mikel would see exactly why half of Thedas had feared Raleigh Samson.

He found the little pack exactly where he expected to, gathered in the shady spot beside the barn. There were five or six kids debating something animatedly. They all turned when he approached.

"I'm looking for Mikel," he said.

A lanky boy with dusty brown hair and a smattering of freckles stepped forward. A grubby little girl grabbed his arm. Samson recognised her from his lessons with Ren. She looked terrified. The boy looked like he wanted to shit himself.

A small black-haired kid poked his head around them. His large green eyes stared at Samson's face. "Did you find him? Did you find Ren?"

"Shh, Ant," the lanky one hissed. He faced Samson. "I am Mikel."

The boy couldn't have been older than thirteen, even with his height. He was forcing himself to meet Samson's gaze, but his muscles were stiff and… he trembled.

Samson had imagined himself grabbing this Mikel by the front of his shirt and shoving him against the wall, saying some threatening things into his face. He had pictured him… bigger.

Instead, he thrust his hand into his pocket and produced the blood lotus.

Mikel's eyes widened. He swallowed. The little girl's knuckles went white on his arm.

Samson advanced, holding out the plant. "I believe you requested this."

Mikel flinched.

"Do you make all your new recruits risk their lives to join your little gang, or was it just this one?"

"We didn't think he'd actually do it," one of the other kids said.

"Is Ren okay?" Ant insisted.

Samson kept his focus on the leader. "I'm asking you, Mikel."

His throat bobbed. "I didn't mean for him to risk his life, Ser Samson. It was just a bit of fun."

"Which part was fun, exactly?"

Mikel looked at his feet. "We didn't want anyone to get hurt, honest. We thought it… well… Ren's always going on about wanting to be a hero, going on quests and the like."

"Yeah," some of the other kids agreed in chorus.

"And he's been learning the sword and everything. He's from the city right? Always talking about the city and the things his cousins get up to and, well…"

"And you lot got jealous, is it?" Samson concluded.

Ant pushed his way forward. "Ser Samson, please tell us Ren's alright? When the storm broke, we went to find his mum. We told her where he was. Did they get to him? Is he okay?"

Samson nodded and swept his hair out of his eyes. This was more complex than he'd thought. "Yeah, he's fine, kid. Got an adventure all right. I doubt you'll hear the end of it."

Ant grinned. Another boy said, "Told you so."

"What happens to us?" Mikel asked.

"What do you mean what happens to you?" Samson noticed the little girl move even closer to Mikel.

"Don't hurt us," she said.

"I'm not going to hurt you! I just…" He scratched at his head. "Look, you…"

They all stared up at him, hanging on his words.

"You kids live on a mountain in the middle of fucking nowhere." _Shit, probably not the best phrasing._ "I mean the middle of nowhere, right? And the Inquisition is, well, it's big. And it might not seem like there's any danger right now, but big military operations like this? There's always something coming. You've got to look out for each other."

They continued to stare at him. The little girl nudged Mikel. "Ask him," she whispered.

Mikel glanced down at her. "Not now."

"I'm all ears," Samson said.

Mikel fixed his gaze on his feet again. "Me and some of the others were wondering, but we understand if it would be impossible now, you know, considering."

"Spit it out, kid."

His gaze flicked up. "Well we were wondering if you might teach us the sword too."

The little girl nodded enthusiastically. If Ren had trouble holding a sword, he couldn't imagine how she'd fare.

"Well…" Was it suddenly hot? "You'd need to arrange your own weapons. Blunt ones, preferably. I won't be responsible for any limbs getting chopped off."

"Yay!" The little girl jumped up and down.

"Not you, Meg," one of the other kids said. "You're a mage, you can't learn the sword."

"Can too!"

"No you can't. You've got to learn magic."

"Why can't I learn both?"

Why not indeed? Times were certainly changing.

* * *

The pattering rain became a downpour as Solana trudged after Cullen. It roared through the leaves, pooled in between the tree roots and made the ground slippery.

"There's a village, not too far from here," she called to him, trying to catch up to his relentless marching pace. "We should stay the night."

"How big a village?" he asked. Water was coursing down his face, dripping off his nose.

"Not more than a settlement. They're farmers mostly. Fruit I think. But I'm certain they have an inn at the very least."

He shook his head. The movement didn't so much as shift the hair that was plastered to his skull. "No, we should press forward."

She closed her eyes and prayed for patience before trotting after him again. "Cullen, we can't even see the stars in this. And we don't want to get lost in these forests, they're gigantic."

"We've wasted enough time as it is."

"Stopping at a village isn't wasted time! We can gather supplies, ask around for information, dry off. I'm swimming in my boots, Cullen."

He rounded on her. "Well, if you wanted to be comfortable, maybe you should have stayed at home!"

"What's _wrong_ with you?"

"Wrong with me? What's wrong with _you_? This isn't a pleasure trip, Solana. We have a duty."

"This isn't like you."

"Are you certain?" He continued stalking ahead, forcing her to all but run after him.

"You're being completely unreasonable. Are you still angry about me telling stories about Alistair? Is that it?"

He brought a hand up to rub at his temples. "Oh by all means, let's discuss Alistair some more."

"That is _not_ what I meant."

Cullen did not respond. If anything, he walked faster. She was struggling to keep up, especially carrying a heavy pack. Twice she almost slipped on the wet ground.

"You know how absurd it is that you're jealous of Alistair?" she shot at him after a time struggling in silence. She was feeling irritable too now. Not to mention tired, wet and cold. If Cullen wanted to fight, oh she would fight.

"I am not jealous."

She barked a laugh. "Oh? Oh really? Then please explain what you _are_."

"Perhaps I am weary. Perhaps I've finally grown weary of your comparisons-."

"Comparisons? When have I ever compared you?"

"Always. Do you think me blind? I see the way you look at me out here. Or rather, look _through_ me. You're thinking of him constantly. You're so contented out here because it brings back memories of how things were when he-"

"When he was alive?"

Cullen stopped walking. It was so sudden that she almost barreled into him.

"Cullen, you're being ridiculous. I've never compa-"

"Where's the river?" he asked.

Solana wiped wet hair out of her face and looked to their right. "Through those trees."

"I don't hear it," Cullen said.

It was true. The rain had calmed, so they should have been able to hear it, especially now it had swelled with fresh water. It should have been roaring louder than ever. Solana veered right, heart starting to pound a little faster. Cullen followed her. She pushed through the trees, expecting to see it in front of her. But there were only more trees.

She spun to face Cullen. "I told you this would happen. We should not have been travelling in the rain."

"Oh, so this is my fault now?"

"Yes! If we'd headed for the village like I had suggested-"

"We wouldn't have gotten lost on the way?"

They stared at each other. Cullen was scowling.

"We're lost because we were moving too fast," she said. "We need to try to retrace our steps."

He shook his head. "We'll never find our way back in this. We need to get to higher ground. Find some kind of landmark."

"And how do you suggest we find higher ground?"

"I was going to suggest you climb a tree. Or was that a special darkspawn fighting technique?"

"No, it's a special dry weather I-won't-fall-to-my-death trick," she retorted. "I don't know what's gotten into you Cullen, but I don't much like it."

"Well it's good we're not married anymore then," he responded. Maker, he was finding anything he could to hurt her.

"Oh, did you write to the Chantry to get it annulled?" she responded. She was relatively certain he hadn't. "Because if you didn't, I've got bad news for you." She held up her hand. She was still wearing his rings.

Something whistled through the trees and knocked into her shoulder. Then _f_ _ _i_ re_. Her nerves screamed. A yelp ripped from her throat as the pain incapacitated her. She was vaguely aware of her knees giving in, of seeing the arrow poking out of her, and of Cullen running forward calling her name.


	86. Grey Warden

_A/N: I just wanted to put in a little reminder that Solana never took part in the events of Awakening, she ran into the Frostbacks straight after the events of DAO.  
_

* * *

"Solana! Solana look at me! Oh, Maker, Solana."

Cullen clutched her to his chest. He turned her face towards him. Her eyes were large, frozen in surprise. But she was panting. She was alive.

He knew there was a threat. Someone had shot her. There was an arrow sticking straight out of her shoulder. He should confront them, get answers. But his entire world had narrowed down to just her. Suddenly small, suddenly vulnerable. Her fingers flexed, grabbing for support and finding only his plate armour.

"Help!" Cullen screamed, there was no sense to it, but the plea ripped from his throat. "Help me please!"

After barely a moment of frantic shouting, something responded. Something came through the trees.

"'oly Maker." An Orlesian accent. "Holy Maker, what 'appened?"

Cullen looked up, finding an elderly gentleman standing on the edge of the clearing. "It's my wife. My wife. Someone shot her."

"Surely no-" the Orlesian responded.

The crashing of branches, an agonised cry. "No, no, no! Maker, no."

A second person, this one sounding more Fereldan, flew to Cullen's side. He had long, dark hair and hard features, with a small beard below his lower lip.

"Nathaniel!" the Orlesian addressed him. "Tell me you did not do this?"

But Cullen saw the arrows he carried on his back. Yellow and white fletching, like the one sticking out of Solana. The man leaned over her. "I'm so sorry. I thought it was an animal."

"An _animal_?"

"Her coat."

Her cloak was brown and fur-lined. Still, it seemed unlikely. They hadn't exactly been quiet. But what other explanation was there?

"It missed her vitals," Nathaniel said. "Good. We should get her to help. Julien?"

The Orlesian nodded. "My villa is not far. I will ride ahead and let them know to expect you."

He stumbled backwards, bowing his head to Cullen before darting into the trees with surprising speed.

"Do you have potions?" Nathaniel asked. "Anything we can use to stabilise her?"

"Yes." Why hadn't he thought of that? Cullen fumbled with his pack, struggling to get his fingers to obey him.

When he eventually retrieved the potion, he uncorked it with his teeth and poured the liquid into her gasping mouth. She choked. He was going too fast. He was endangering her. He tried to keep his hand steady as he poured more in, slowly this time, landing on her tongue and not down her throat. She swallowed, closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were brighter and more alert.

"Cullen?"

"I'm here. You're injured. We're getting you help."

"I'll take her on my horse," Nathaniel said. "I know the way. It will be fastest."

"No." He might have been right, but there was no way in all of Thedas Cullen was going to let go of her, especially not if it meant entrusting her to the very one who shot her. . "I'll take her."He clambered to his feet, cradling Solana against his chest. She groaned at the movement

"I doubt the horse could manage all three of us. Let me take her."

"Then tell me the way."

Nathaniel looked like he wanted to argue, but something in Cullen's eyes must have told him that was a bad idea. Instead, he bent to pick up Solana's pack. "Alright. Come, the horses are tethered this way."

* * *

Solana was aware only of pain and dull voices and being jostled. Cullen was near. She could smell him, hear the rumble of his voice. She knew she was safe.

She only really started coming back to herself when the first potion kicked in. They were riding, the forest was streaking past. She looked up and saw Cullen's face, mouth pulled taut, brow furrowed.

"Don't get lost," she said.

He glanced down at her and, to her surprise, he smiled. "Shh, rest."

Her limbs tingled, her head was light. Everything dissolved into grey.

Solana jerked back to consciousness to the sound of many voices. She was being carried through a cool hall, laid down on a long, soft, chaise. Someone placed a pillow beneath her head.

Two Orlesians were speaking. A woman and a man.

"How could this have 'appened?"

"It was an accident, could have been any one of us."

"But Nathaniel is so good with the bow."

"Perhaps he was distracted."

The woman came around the chaise and knelt before Solana. She was kindly, a little like Wynne, but her hair was perfectly styled and she wore a lace collar that glittered. "We've sent for the healer from the village, dear. It shall not be long."

"Thank you," Solana managed.

Her clothes were still heavy and cold. She felt that maybe they should move her from their fine furniture before she got it wet. She tried to sit, but a hand on her chest stopped her. Cullen was behind her. She had to tilt her head all the way back to see him.

"Thank you for your kindness," Cullen said to the woman. His voice was a welcome counterpoint to the pain coursing through her.

"My my, not at all. It's our house guest who's responsible for this unfortunate turn of events. I can't imagine why he would make such an error. Perhaps the rain?"

"Perhaps," Cullen said.

"Oh, but how rude of me." The woman rose in a rustle of expensive fabric. "I am Marie, and you met my husband, Julien."

Cullen shifted and Solana imagined he was offering her his hand. "Cullen, and my wife, Solana."

"It's seldom we have travellers through the forest."

"Well, we weren't meant to be in the forest at all. We were looking for the village but got turned around somehow," Cullen lied smoothly.

"Would you like something to drink? Tea perhaps?"

"Tea would be welcome, thank you."

The woman floated away, calling for her servants. Cullen slid round to Solana's side. His brow was creased. She only realised then that he was applying pressure to her shoulder. The pain had been so blinding that she'd not noticed the additional force against the wound.

"I'll be fine," she said, with less strength than she'd intended. He didn't react. "Extraordinary thing to have happened, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Was he still angry at her? She searched his expression. The familiar lines, even the scar were a comfort despite how they'd started that morning. "I'm sorry."

His gaze moved from her shoulder to her face. "Whatever for?"

She would have shrugged had it not been for the pain. "This is going to delay us even further."

His mouth quirked. "I suppose you're right." He adjusted how he was sitting, bringing his body closer to hers somehow. The fingers of his free hand brushed against hers lying on her stomach. "Quite inconsiderate of you." His voice was warm as it washed over her.

"Cullen..." she closed her eyes, tempted to just bathe in this rare closeness. But there were things that had to be said. "About Alistair.""

"Don't." His tone was still gentle. "You don't owe me any explanation. You were right, I was being a jealous fool."

"No, I… you shouldn't compare yourself to him. Alistair was not like you."

"I -"

"No, listen." She grabbed his hand. "Alistair was a good man, but he was young and lost and naive. There's a reason I didn't make him king, Cullen. The choice was mine. I _chose_ Anora. Alistair was many good things, but he could never have accomplished what you have. You need to know that."

Cullen stared down at her, his expression softer than she'd seen it in months. "Thank you for saying that," he whispered.

"It's the truth. I would make you king, Cullen. In a heartbeat. You'd be a good king."

She could hear the rain, a little way off, splattering against a window or down onto a porch. The sound seemed to fill her head.

Cullen touched her cheek, bringing her back to herself. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but Marie arrived with the tea, trailing servants.

* * *

Nathaniel returned at the same time as the healer and there was a great deal of activity all at once. Cullen backed away, but only just enough to allow the healer to do her work.

He had seen arrow wounds on the battlefield and they weren't pretty. Solana screamed as they cut into her, and she must have passed out by the time they tugged the arrow free from where it had lodged in her bone. Cullen's hands hurt from clenching them so tightly, and his jaw ached from grinding his teeth. A wound such as that would take weeks to heal, even with potions and poultices, and it was prone to infection. The healer muttered something.

Blue light danced from her palms.

 _A mage! Thank the Maker._

Nathaniel also hovered nearby. Marie had questions for him, of course, and he answered them willingly while keeping his eyes trained on the woman he had very nearly killed.

It became apparent that he and the older gentleman, Julien, had been out hunting for dinner. It was strange weather for it, but then, they were Orlesian. Who was Cullen to judge?

"We were expecting some wild boar, not a handsome young lady." Julien laughed as he poured himself a stiff drink. He offered one to Cullen too, but he declined, mortified that the man could _laugh_ at such a time.

The healer was accomplished for someone who lived in a small settlement in a forest. Within the hour, Solana was sitting upright and sipping sweet tea. Her arm was in a sling, but mostly to remind her not to use it while the poultice that had been placed on the wound did its work. Marie ushered the mage off before Cullen had a chance to properly thank her. She seemed a shy woman at any rate, with her head bound in a red scarf and her eyes downcast. He hoped Marie paid her well for her efforts.

Cullen seated himself beside Solana. "How are you feeling?"

"Hmm?" She wasn't yet herself. "Oh, a little tired. It doesn't hurt anymore though. We can leave as soon as you're ready."

He thought she was joking, but her vacant smile as she stared into her teacup said otherwise. Before he could respond, Marie swept around to Solana's other side, seemingly out of nowhere. "Oh no, darling. You can not leave today. Not in this weather. Not in your condition. The healer said you need rest."

"Of course, you must stay," Julien boomed. "I insist. I've already ordered some pheasant for dinner. Not quite as fine as what we might have caught, but our cook can do wonders."

Solana's gaze flicked up to Cullen's. "That's generous of you, but we must move on."

Cullen shook his head. "No, absolutely not. You need to rest, Solana. We can head off again tomorrow."

She raised her eyebrows as if surprised he'd changed his mind from that morning.

"Maker's breath, I'm not going to make you travel like this."

"Good," Marie clapped her hands together. "It's settled then."

* * *

The dinner table was so laden with food that Solana expected other guests to join them, but it was just the five of them. The man - Julien - made a great show of choosing a wine to pair with the meal. Marie tittered about table settings, and Nathaniel stood watching gloomily from the edge of the room until they were all invited to sit.

And what a room it was. Pale wooden panelling lined the walls, flecked with gold and decorated with intricate ornamental carvings. A chandelier twinkled overhead, bathing the proceedings in a warm light.

Solana didn't think she had much of an appetite, but the food was exquisite and she found that after days of travelling she was far more hungry than she'd expected. She noticed that Cullen, seated beside her, ate well too, although he kept looking across at Nathaniel.

Eventually, when a natural pause came in conversation, he asked casually, "Forgive me if this should be obvious, but you mentioned earlier that Nathaniel is a guest here? How do you know each other?"

He reached for a bread roll while he spoke, and Solana knew him well enough to recognise that that move was also calculated. He was intently curious about their other guest, and was trying his best to mask the fact.

"Oh, Nathaniel is like a part of the family," Marie exclaimed, her hand fluttering in front of her chest.

"Nate is good friends with our son, aren't you?" Julien declared. "You're practically brothers."

"Practically." Nathaniel offered a delayed smile. His eyes swept over Cullen, and Solana had no doubt he had picked up just as much about him as she had. It made her skin crawl. She'd seen that look before, but she couldn't place where.

"They serve in the Wardens together," Marie added.

Solana's stomach leapt, but she was watching Cullen and he made no move to indicate this information affected him. He smeared butter on his roll. "Oh, I didn't realise you were a Warden. The Wardens I've seen always wear that uniform, with the griffons." Cullen indicated his chest. "Although you do have the dour expression down pat," he added

Solana clenched her teeth. But the quip landed. Marie giggled and Julien chuckled. In fact, Julien went so far as to nudge Nathaniel. "He's right, you know. You're looking at the bird like it personally insulted your ancestors."

" _It_ didn't," Nathaniel said, his voice like gravel. His gaze moved to Solana, and she straightened automatically under its intensity. "I must apologise, I feel so contrite at what happened earlier, I find I don't have little desire to eat."

Solana nodded, anxious to be out from his attention. "It was an accident, you needn't concern yourself."

"If I may ask," Cullen continued. "What brings the Wardens out here?"

Solana's heart started pounding. She didn't feel equipped for this now. She knew Cullen was doing the right thing, his mind was on the mission, but she felt tired and vulnerable, and incapable of assisting him.

"Warden," Nathaniel said with a flicker of a smile. "Singular. And what brings you and your lovely wife to these parts?"

He hadn't answered the question. Solana expected Cullen to press, but he backed down, spearing a potato. "As I told Marie earlier, we weren't meant to be in the woods at all, we got lost. I'm surprised you didn't hear us arguing about it."

"Lost on your way to where?" Nathaniel asked, sidestepping Cullen's comment about them arguing. He was right, though. How could Nathaniel have shot her, thinking she was an animal, and yet not heard their exchange? Something in the pit of her stomach told her to run. Cullen hadn't answered. He was no doubt weighing up options. Her pulse raced. Nowhere to run, no way out but through.

"We're actually looking for a friend of ours," Solana said. "A man by the name of Anders."

Cullen paused, fork hovering over his food.

"Anders?" Nathaniel repeated. For an instant, his confident facade faltered. He sounded surprised. His brow furrowed. Then he schooled his expression back into one of neutrality.

"You know him?" she asked, watching his face. "He's a Grey Warden too."

Cullen's hand rested on her knee. A warning.

Nathaniel shook his head. "I can't say I do. Where did you last see him?"

"Skyhold."

Cullen squeezed her leg, but she was studying Nathaniel, watching for anything that might indicate he knew something.

"Skyhold?" Julien asked. "That's the headquarters of the Inquisition. Up in the Frostbacks? Are you part of the Inquisition, then? I heard they allied with the Wardens. Right after our boy first disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Solana snapped her attention to Julien.

The man nodded, chewing carefully and then swallowing. "Oh yes, we never found out what happened. But he came back to us after. Told us it was all a secret. Nate here won't talk about it either. All I know is it was something to do with the Inquisition."

Was it possible he had been one of the Wardens at Adamant? Was that why he looked vaguely familiar? Well, best way to find out…

"Were you there that night?" she asked him.

"What?" Nathaniel seemed genuinely puzzled.

"At Adamant," she clarified.

He narrowed his eyes. "No."

"Adamant?" Julien asked.

"It's a fortress in the Western Approach… well, _was_ a fortress, I should say," Cullen filled in, easily. "The Wardens and the Inquisition faced an army of demons there during the war against Corypheus. We won too. Your son was lucky to survive."

"Oh good gracious." Marie's hand was at her throat again. "I had no idea. Nate, did you know?"

"I knew," Nathaniel said. He was positively glaring at Solana now.

"It's strange," she said, focusing on her food because she did not trust that she could keep her voice so casual if she met his gaze. "I thought _all_ the Wardens in Southern Orlais were there."

When she glanced up, he was smirking. "Are you trying to imply I'm not a Warden? I could show you a vial of darkspawn blood if that would suffice as proof?"

"Oh, I don't think that anyone is implying that, dear," Marie insisted. She may have said more, but Solana didn't hear it. _Vial of darkspawn blood_. The Warden's Oath talisman. That wouldn't be proof to anyone but another Warden. She didn't carry the Taint anymore, which meant he couldn't have identified her by that. And he was regarding her, the corner of his mouth lifted in amusement, as she tried to figure it out. As she tried to work out how he knew who she was.

* * *

Hawke watched the rain battering against the window. Below, people darted in and out of buildings, shielding their faces with their hands, or holding arms above their heads as if it would offer some measure of protection. They were getting just as wet anyways. The lights from the tavern cast halos in the condensation. It was pretty, cozy. Almost calming.

He wrapped his arms around himself, prickles of gooseflesh were rising on his skin.

"Anders?" Rylen asked, behind him.

Hawke turned. "No, not Anders," he lied. Rylen was sprawled on his bed, the blanket draped artfully across his middle. He rested his chin his hand. The rain cast strange shadows against his muscled chest. It did not take much effort for Hawke to smile, despite his mood. "I thought you were asleep."

"Aye, just resting my eyes." Rylen returned his smile. "Should I go?"

"Bored of me already?" Hawke teased, climbing back into bed.

"Oh no, certainly not." Rylen scanned the length of him. "I just don't… well, I don't want to impose."

 _Impose._ An interesting choice of words. It was like Rylen read his mind. Hawke took a deep breath. The faint sound of crying saved him from explanations. "You hear that? That's your friend Cullen's kid."

"Ah, yes, I heard your young neighbour earlier. Little wonder you spend your days in the tavern."

Hawke laughed and leaned back against the pillow. "She was born Tranquil."

"Gossip like that even reaches us out in the Western Approach, believe it or not."

"Well, what I mean is, it's not so bad hearing her cry. Babies are meant to cry."

"Indeed."

Dreaded silence fell, the awkward silence Hawke had been waiting for. He tried to find something else to say about Alise.

"Hawke?"

"Mmm?"

"We don't have to talk about the baby. You can tell me what's on your mind."

"No, I really can't."

Rylen surprised him by reaching out and touching his cheek. They'd been _intimate_ , but this was somehow more intimate than anything they'd done. Rylen seemed to think better of the gesture, bringing his hand back to his own chest. It was the first hint of self-consciousness Hawke had seen from him. "I got a copy of that book."

"Which book?"

"You know the one."

Hawke's heart stuttered. "Tale of the Champion?"

Rylen nodded. "It seems to me that Anders is a decent sort."

"Don't."

Rylen rolled onto his back. "Of course, I'm not very far in. A bit of a slow reader. I haven't reached the part where he destroys the chantry and scatters Kirkwall with the remains." He glanced at Hawke, then back at the ceiling. "But then, I saw that part first hand. The remains, I mean."

"Maybe you _should_ leave," Hawke said. The words hurt. He didn't want to be alone and he didn't want to chase Rylen away, but the very last thing he wanted to do was revisit that night. Again. As if it hadn't been playing itself over and over in his mind every day for _years._ Rylen was meant to be an _escape_.

"Now now," Rylen said evenly. "No need for that. We don't need to talk if you don't want to."

"We can talk, just not about _him_." He sounded petulant, even to his own ears. "Especially not when I'm lying here naked with another man, having just done… that. Here." It came out in a rush.

Rylen _smiled_. " _That._ Well, that's quite the summation. And _here_. Now we're getting somewhere."

"What do you mean 'now we're getting somewhere?'"

"You shared this room with Anders, didn't you?"

Hawke felt his shoulders tense. "Briefly."

"And by briefly you mean the time he was with the Inquisition."

"I was in the Wilds for most of it," Hawke said tersely.

"And those oils we used…"

"Stop!" _Maker._ Hawke pressed his eyes closed.

"I thought as much. Hawke, here, look at me. Come on." Rylen's hands were on him, turning his face. When Hawke resisted, Rylen's lips touched his. Soft, tender. It was impossible not to respond. Rylen was good at kisses. His fingers traced along Hawke's jaw, tangling in his beard. He pulled away, but only slightly. "Hawke, it's all right."

"What's all right?"

"It's all right that you still have feelings for Anders. I understand."

That surprised him. He opened his eyes, finding Rylen's also open, filled with warmth. He didn't know what to say, he couldn't find the words. "I…" I _don't know what will happen if he returns_ , he wanted to say. He pulled himself free of Rylen's grasp, sat up and scrubbed his face. "I stood with him when the entire world wanted him dead."

Rylen said nothing, but he gazed up at Hawke with evident interest.

"I lived on the run, for four years."

Rylen waited for him to continue.

Even though he hadn't intended to, he did. "Then Varric's letter and suddenly I'm here. I'm surrounded by people and adventure and decent food and lodging that doesn't leak. And I have a cousin. I _belong_. I'm making a difference again. A _good_ difference. When he showed up at that door," Hawke pointed at it, "the first thing I felt should have been elation, shouldn't it? But I was _frightened_."

"Afraid you'd lose the respect you'd gained here." Rylen nodded as if that made perfect sense. But Hawke didn't just mean that. He meant afraid for his friends, his new-found family, his life. He was afraid of Justice.

Hawke hugged himself. "I _knew_ something was up. I knew he had a reason for being here. But he promised me, he swore that he was just here because he missed me. And eventually I believed him. Even when they killed the magister."

Rylen tilted his head, but didn't query.

"Things were good. He was never unkind to me. So why didn't I write to him while I was in the Wilds? Why did I feel like I had nothing to say?"

"Perhaps," Rylen said quietly. He hesitated, but at Hawke's look, he continued, "Perhaps you didn't miss him."

It seemed so simple, and yet so cruel. "How could I not miss him? We were together for-"

"Seven years." Rylen's smile was sad this time.

Hawke looked at his knees. "I suggested he come along to Kinloch Hold when we were trying to find a cure for the baby. He almost died as a result. When he was lying there, bleeding out, I thought I found clarity. I didn't want him to die. I would have given anything, in that moment, to be able to heal him."

Rylen touched Hawke's shoulder. His hands were rough, soldier's hands and very different from the soft caress of a mage. "Falling out of love with someone doesn't mean you stop caring about them."

Falling out of love? "You really do put things plainly."

"It's a gift."

"You probably think I should have left him in Kirkwall."

"I didn't say that."

"Everyone else does. Varric does."

"Hawke, I'm not here to judge you. I'm here to screw you, that's a little different."

Hawke's traitorous heart fluttered. "And instead you're listening to me pour my heart out. Sorry."

"Don't be." Rylen sat up, bringing his face level with Hawke's. "That was flippant and crass of me. I'm who should be sorry. For the flippant bit anyhow. I _am_ here to screw you. But, what I meant was that you don't owe me explanations for any of it. Kirkwall or the rest. I knew who you were when you introduced yourself. If any of it troubled me, you wouldn't have woken up in Cullen's bed."

Hawke snickered at that. "You're a good man, Rylen."

"I try."

"Still, I may have been out of the, uh, _screwing_ game for a while, but even I know it's impolite to sob about the ex on a date."

"So he is the ex then?" Rylen asked. He saved Hawke the need to answer by kissing him. When their lips parted, he pressed his forehead against Hawke's. "I like listening to you, Hawke."

"You should probably just read the book," Hawke whispered. "The book's far more interesting."

"I disagree."

Rylen kissed him again and Hawke let himself melt against him. Outside the rain torrented down, but Rylen's arms were strong and warm and Hawke didn't want to think anymore.


	87. Darkness

The servants came to clear away the main course in a bustle of arms and crisp uniforms. Cullen lost his bread roll in the fuss and it said a lot about his state of mind that he didn't even seem to notice.

One of the servants was a little slower than the others and Marie snapped at her. Solana had to bite her tongue, because the reason for her distraction was evident. She was obviously pregnant. Her belly was so swollen that she was probably as far as six or seven months along. She kept her head bowed, but she glanced at Nathaniel from under her lashes a few times. He paid her no mind. _Interesting._

The conversation moved back to safer territory while the desserts were laid out. Julien was impressed with the improvements the Inquisition had made to the roads and the restorations that were being done following the civil war. Marie wanted to discuss the origin of each ingredient in the dessert with Solana. She nodded along and pretended to be interested. This became especially challenging when Nathaniel excused himself from the table. Eventually Solana protested that her shoulder was beginning to hurt again, and she wished to return to their room to retrieve the elfroot potion the healer had left for her.

Cullen gave her a warning look as she slipped away. He clearly knew exactly what she intended.

She went up to the room first, so no one could accuse her of lying. They'd been given a fine guest suite for the night that reminded her of the one she'd had in Halamshiral. The room was on the second floor, at the top of a flight of sweeping stairs, along a plush corridor. It wasn't all that big but it was tastefully decorated. A four-poster bed took up most of the space, with a large window dominating the outer wall. Their packs were as they had left them at the foot of the bed – good, she didn't like the idea of servants digging through her things at the best of times. Although her robes from earlier, and her travelling cloak, were draped over a chair, drying beside the fire. Had the servants done that? Or was it Cullen?

Cullen… she eyed the bed. It had been some time since they'd shared a room. Many a night recently she'd woken up craving his warmth, his arms, trying to remember his kisses. He'd been tender earlier, when he'd been worried for her. She twisted the rings on her finger. It would be foolish to read too much into that. Before, he'd acted like he hated her.

A bed was just a bed. A space for sleeping. It wouldn't change anything.

She pushed the thought from her mind, retrieved the potion from the bedside table, and set off on her real mission: finding Nathaniel. Perhaps if they could talk privately, he'd open up to a fellow Warden.

Maudlin paintings donned the walls. Like Redcliffe Castle. It had been over a decade, but Solana still remembered the chill, the sickness in her gut as she'd ducked from room to room trying to avoid encountering the young Conner, finding walking corpses instead. There was a story she'd read once about a couple who lived in a remote part of Tevinter and used to dine on their dinner guests. This was the kind of house for that.

 _I thought it was an animal…_

A shudder ran up her spine.

After discreetly checking into a number of rooms, and down a handful of passages, Solana eventually tracked Nathaniel to a downstairs corridor.

It was his voice she heard first. It was exceedingly low, coming from just around a corner. She pressed her back against the wall.

"I told you, I don't know," a woman's voice insisted in a thick Orlesian accent.

Solana's curiosity won out and she peeked around the corner. Nathaniel stood with his hands on his hips, glaring down at the pregnant servant, who wrung her hands. Chestnut hair escaped from beneath her lacy cap and she looked up at him pleadingly with large brown eyes.

Nathaniel growled at her. "You carry his child and yet you expect me to believe he gave you no indication of where he was going?"

"Please, I have told you all I know."

He rested his arm on the wall above her head, leaning in to her. "No, you haven't."

"Nathaniel, you're frightening me."

"Then _speak_. Tell me what you know."

Solana debated keeping quiet. Whatever information the woman gave Nathaniel might help her too. And Cullen would be angry if she got into an altercation…

"Tell. Me. What. You. Know." Nathaniel had his teeth gritted. He seemed almost more canine than man the way he was bearing down on the girl.

It seemed Solana's infamous willpower was useless when directed at herself. She stepped into the corridor. "She said she doesn't know anything."

The woman looked more alarmed at her intrusion than she'd seemed when Nathaniel had been threatening her. She went pale and a hand flew to her stomach.

Nathaniel, however, remained calm. He straightened and turned to her. "No need for a hero. Camille and I are good friends."

 _Hero._ Another little hint that he knew her identity. "This didn't seem like a friendly conversation."

He advanced towards her. She was very aware that she didn't have her staff on hand. "You must be lost. Do you need help finding the dining room?"

He was much taller than her. It was difficult not to feel intimidated. "Perhaps you could accompany me."

"Of course. It's the least I could do." He offered her his arm in mock formality.

She accepted it, because to do any less would be akin to admitting her discomfort.

Camille ducked away, into one of the nearby rooms.

Solana was alone with Nathaniel, just like she'd wanted. Yet, as they walked towards the dining room, she found her tongue uncooperative. Hear heart pounded loudly in her ears. "Your friend is missing again?" she managed.

"Seems we both have missing _friends_."

The way he said the word 'friend' it sounded like an insult. It made the hair on Solana's neck prickle. She needed more information, but there wasn't time. Before she'd managed to get anything else out, they were back in the dining room.

Cullen rose, and it was difficult to tell whether he was being polite or had caught himself in the act of running to her side.

His eyes hardly left her all through the rest of dessert. She was anxious to speak to him too, but she wished he wouldn't be so obvious. When the last plates were cleared, Solana thought she might finally have that opportunity. And then Julien spoke.

"Cullen, dear man, come through to the smoking room and let us gents continue this discussion. Come along, Nate."

Cullen's gaze shot to Solana, pleading mercy. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I don't smoke."

"Some fine brandy for you then. Come on, I insist."

Cullen was herded away with Nathaniel trailing after. Marie appeared at Solana's elbow. "Come to the drawing room, dear. We can have some tea. I want to hear all about the Inquisition."

"Uh…" Solana could imagine nothing worse than a few hours' worth of small talk. "Actually, I'm pretty tired. It's been a long day. Would you mind if I retired?"

Marie blinked at her. Had she made some dreadful social faux pas? But then Marie chimed, "Oh you poor dear, oh of course. Yes, you should get rest. I'll have the servants draw a warm bath for you, shall I?"

Now that sounded like a much better way to spend the evening. Perhaps it would even put her mind at ease about Nathaniel.

* * *

Solana tried to count the number of servants this small household had, but couldn't keep track. A procession of four came in with the tub and then the water. The last of these was the pregnant girl, Camille, whose ears went red when Solana leapt to her feet to take the bucket she was carrying.

"Will you help me with my robes?" Solana asked her quickly.

Camille nodded, keeping her eyes low. "Yes, madame."

 _Well, that was a first._ "I'm not madame, I'm just Solana." She turned around, and Camille started on the buttons down her spine. Solana cradled her injured arm, making it out to be more of an obstacle than it was. She hissed in imagined pain when she felt Camille moving too fast. As expected, the woman slowed, and the process took long enough that by the time Camille was helping Solana to ease her arm out of its sleeve, the other servants were done drawing the bath.

"Will you require any further assistance, madame?" one of them asked. Solana had her back to her, but she imagined carefully folded hands, a blank expression.

"No, I think Camille will be able to help me. Thank you."

"Very well."

She didn't say anything more until she heard the door click shut. Then she let out a breath. _Finally._ Now she had the girl alone.

As her arm came free, Solana checked the poultice. The bandage was still firmly in place, it only hurt when she pressed down on it. She'd received far worse injuries during the Blight, although those had been less unexpected. Camille hovered, hands drifting down to her stomach automatically.

"How far along are you?" Solana asked, breaking the silence.

A flicker of a smile crossed Camille's lips. It was the first sign of happiness Solana had seen from the girl and it was gone just as quickly as it arrived. "Twenty eight weeks."

"That's specific."

The girl blushed again, eyes downcast. Solana dropped her robes and sat on the edge of the bed to remove her undergarments. Now she was the embarrassed one. She wasn't accustomed to changing in front of people. "I used to count weeks too. So much changes between them."

"Yes," Camille agreed softly, still caressing her belly. "You have children?"

"One, a baby girl." Even the mention of Alise tugged at Solana's heart so hard she felt she might cry. "I miss her very much."

"Where is she?" Camille's eyelashes fluttered as she looked down again. "If it's not too bold to ask?"

Solana snorted in what must have been the most unladylike manner. "You and I must have very different definitions of bold. I don't mind you asking. You can ask what you like." Solana waved at the expensive room. "All of this is quite beyond me. I'd prefer we talk as people." She crossed her arms to cover her bare chest. "My daughter's back at Skyhold. I left her with a nurse so I could come find my friend. I fear he might do something he'd regret. I'd like the chance to talk to him first."

Camille gave a shy smile, but didn't take up the conversation.

Solana wasn't sure she'd need help getting into the tub, but thought it was probably safer - for appearances if not anything else - that she accept it. The metal bathtub was draped in soft cloth, the water scented. Solana's senses sang as she sank into the water. She was tempted to forget everything and just relax.

Camille knelt beside her and started lathering the soap, but Solana touched her hand to stop her. "It's alright, I'll wash myself."

The girl frowned as if this was most perplexing, but nodded and sank back onto her haunches.

"If it's not too bold of _me_ to ask, how do you know Nathaniel?"

It was like Solana had poked her in the ribs. She straightened her back, her shoulders tensed.

"He said you were good friends." Solana scrubbed her arm, hopefully it would make the conversation seem more casual.

"Oh, I… he's Monsieur d'Arbre's friend."

"That would be your…" She didn't say husband. If she'd married a _monsieur_ , she wouldn't still be a servant.

Camille's face went pink again. With no task to keep them busy, her fingers fidgeted.

"I see," Solana said. "And Monsieur d'Arbre is the young master of this household?"

Camille swallowed and nodded. She dropped her voice. "Please, do not say anything to the d'Arbres. They have been so kind to me. I have nowhere to go if they…" She bit her tongue, as if even pleading was an imposition. "It is unfortunate that you overheard what Nathaniel said. I do not know how he discovered… perhaps Raoul mentioned me to him."

"I won't say anything," Solana assured her, turning in the tub so she was facing the woman. "And Nathaniel is looking for Raoul? I mean, Monsieur d'Arbre?"

Camille nodded.

"I heard some Wardens disappeared. I'm trying to find them. I think it has something to do with why my friend."

She watched Camille. She offered nothing. Her fidgeting hands moved down to caress her stomach again. Solana knew pressing her was a bad idea, having seen how she clammed up under Nathaniel's interrogation. And Nathaniel was someone she knew, not a stranger like Solana. Still… "Camille, I'm worried that the missing Wardens might be in danger."

Camille's gaze rose to hers.

"I want to help them. I don't want anyone to get hurt. If you know anything..."

The girl turned away. "I do not. I am sorry."

 _Alright. We'll leave that for now._

She changed the topic of conversation. First to babies and pregnancy, then when it made Solana ache for Alise too much, she told Camille of the forest and of their encounter with the darkspawn. Camille was a good audience. She hung on Solana's every word with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape.

Solana had once been so easily impressed, when Jowan had spun her his secondhand stories of the world beyond the Circle. He'd known no more of the outside than she had, but she'd devoured his tales as if they were truth itself. Jowan… no matter how many years went by, how much she tried not to think of him, he always found his way back to her memory at the most unexpected times.

The room was warm and steamy, and the bath was laced with soothing oils. Solana gave in to her exhaustion. When Camille helped her out of the tub, her eyes were growing heavy.

It was something of a relief that she'd be asleep before Cullen came to bed and wouldn't have to deal with _that_ fire mine of potential discomfort. The bed was soft, the pillows fluffed, the blanket warm. The rain was still drumming against the window. Solana was asleep before the servants came to take the tub out again.

* * *

Perhaps it was her memories of his stories, but it was Jowan who was waiting for her in the Fade as she fell to sleep. Jowan, pale as the day she'd betrayed him to the First Enchanter. She was in _that_ cell again, the one in Redcliffe, his words echoing off the walls.

" _It seems... fitting... that the person putting me to rest should be the person I trusted most."_ His small smile. She wanted him to hate her, wanted him to fight.

 _"Why?"_ she'd asked him. _"Why blood magic?"_

 _"It's because of you."_

They had decided on a quick death. All of them. It was that or leave him to whatever torture Eamon exacted on him as revenge. It was that or leave him to maybe be sent back to the Circle and made Tranquil. It was that or risk another abomination. No. Not after what they'd seen at the tower. Not after what had happened to Cullen. A quick death was merciful.

Jowan had understood. " _In a moment of weakness I thought blood magic would give me more power, more control. Isn't that stupid?"_

Stupid indeed. But no more stupid than Morrigan's ritual, which would have saved Alistair. No more stupid than Solana intentionally giving her child to a demon in the hope that it would cure her.

Jowan was on his knees. He stared up at her. So young. So very young.

She wanted to tell him she was sorry. She opened her mouth to say as much. But she found she couldn't draw air. She tried again. No air. There was no air. The dungeon had emptied of it, it was becoming a black pit and she was falling into it, lungs heaving.

She thrashed, gasping, coming fully awake. She couldn't breathe. Something over her face. Darkness all around. A weight pressing down on her. Lungs aching, burning. No air. The desperate, instinctual flailing. Something much stronger than her, driving full force into her injured shoulder. An airless scream as pain blossomed. Fire in her mind, across her nerves, sinking backwards into the dark pit, into the Void.

Someone was murdering her.


	88. The past

Solana kicked out and twisted, trying to force the heavy weight off her. Her lungs struggled for air, her mind spiralled into panic. She felt for her magic, her connection to the Fade, but she couldn't focus, all she could think of was _air_ and _pain_. Whoever was trying to suffocate her pressed down on her injured shoulder, sending red and yellow explosions of agony through her.

She was losing strength, losing her mind. But the pain kept her conscious. She grasped it like a physical thing that could pull her back to herself. _Magic._ _There!_ She tapped it but was unable to call any specific spell to mind. A memory of a small girl in a dark room. Adults fighting above. Frightened. _What if she's a mage._ Raw power shivering from her. Raw power, explosion, then running feet. All she needed was raw power to draw attention. She struck out with her arm, blindly. She struck out, not at her assailant, but at the room. Once, twice, three times. _Smash._ She hit something big.

Too late. The world was slipping away. Her limbs were heavy. She was sinking into the bed, through it, into darkness.

 _Pounding feet._ "Solana!" _Light, bright white and painful. And air! Blessed air._ She heaved it in, clutched her throat as her lungs spasmed in their eagerness to fill. Two dark figures crashed across the room, locked together. They barreled into the furniture like fighting pups. A flash of silver. The one drew a sword. More feet, shouting. Solana hiccoughed, her eyes moist and blurred with tears. She brushed them away to see Cullen pressing Nathaniel up against the far wall, his sword at the man's throat.

Julian and Marie were at the door, demanding answers, talking over each other so Solana could not make out the individual words.

"He tried to kill her! Again!" Cullen shouted. "If she hadn't managed to break the window…"

Now Solana saw the glass scattered across the floor. So that's what she'd managed to hit.

"Nathaniel, is this true?" Julien demanded.

Nathaniel breathed heavily. He sneered. "They're lying to you. _She's_ the murderer."

"What?" Solana managed. Her heart galloped, she struggled to steady her own breath. Surely they could see that she was the one who'd been attacked?

Nathaniel's gaze moved to Solana. "You don't even know who I am, do you?"

Her mind was sluggish. All she could think of was Jowan. This was certainly not Jowan.

Nathaniel laughed, a low grating sound. "Tell her who I am, Julien. Tell her my full name. Watch her reaction."

Julian looked towards Solana, his brow furrowed. "Now Nathaniel-"

"That's right," Nathaniel cut him off. "Nathaniel Howe."

"Howe?" It was all Solana could do to stop herself from laughing. The whiplash of emotions, terror to relief to surprise, demanded physical response. The way he spoke, she'd expected far worse. One of the wolf men. A trader whose caravan she'd failed to save. The family of someone she'd sent to their deaths in Denerim. Howe had never even occurred to her. But now he said it, she could see it. That's why some of his expressions had been familiar. "You're Rendon Howe's son?"

"I am," he declared. "And you murdered my father. In his own home. Tell them. Tell your loving husband what you did."

She blinked at him. "Yes, I killed Arl Howe. It's well known."

"Excuse me?" Julian asked. Marie was staring at the scene in silent horror.

Solana sat up straighter, squaring her shoulders. "I'll tell you exactly what happened. He was going to _murder_ Queen Anora. Yes, I broke into his home. Yes, I found him in the dungeons of that home surrounded by bodies and those who he'd been _torturing_. Yes, I killed him. He was known as the _Butcher of Denerim_."

"You're _lying_! You're lying now as you did then, as you did about Anders. You think I don't know Anders is _dead_?"

Cullen's gaze shot to Solana then. "What do you mean, dead?"

Nathaniel didn't answer. He addressed Marie this time. "I don't know what these people want, but I know what they're capable of and I know they've been lying. They didn't get lost in the forest. They've been travelling along the river. And the man they mentioned before, they've been dropping that name all over the place, baiting I think. They're looking for Raoul. You cannot let them go."

"All over the place?" Solana was struggling to follow. "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

"We're not baiting anyone! We didn't even know Raoul existed before this afternoon. We told you the truth. We're looking for our friend Anders. Maybe you're thinking of someone else…"

Nathaniel shook his head so violently that Cullen had to move the sword back a bit to stop him from slitting his own throat. "No. Anders isn't a name. It's what they called him at the Circle because he wouldn't _tell_ them his name. Anders isn't a name so there can't be two of them. Certainly not in the Grey Wardens."

"Perhaps we're too late," Cullen suggested softly. "If Anders is truly dead then you are better informed than we."

Nathaniel growled, "You said you saw him at Skyhold."

"We did," Solana assured him, and their audience. "We saw him just over a month ago. He saved my life."

"That's impossible. Anders died. Ten years ago. I was there."

At that, Cullen gave a bark of hollow laughter, drawing every eye in the room. "Would that were true!"

 _Not exactly helping._ Julien and Marie exchanged looks.

"How can you not have heard what happened in Kirkwall?" Cullen continued. "Have you been down in the Deep Roads for the last seven years?"

"Love..." Solana cautioned. To Nathaniel she said, "What do you know of the Kirkwall Rebellion of 9:37?"

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Nathaniel," Marie said softly. "The instigator of the Rebellion was a mage named Anders."

Where Solana's words had failed to get through, Marie's seemed to hit with critical effectiveness. Nathaniel's eyes went wide. "It can't be. I… his body. In Vigil's Keep. It was… we held a funeral."

Cullen sighed. "He clearly faked his own death in order to escape his Warden duties. A master at escaping, if nothing else. Your friend Anders is alive. At least he was when we last saw him."

"Vigil's Keep?" Solana hadn't meant to ask out loud. Once again, she became the focus of attention.

"Familiar?" Cullen asked.

"It's… well, it was my command. Supposed to be, anyway." _Before I ran._ "Anora granted me a boon for stopping the Blight. Naive as I was, I asked her to free the Ferelden mages from the Circles. I think the nobles were laughing into their handkerchiefs. But Anora was so poised. She gave me land instead, and she made a speech about welcoming the Wardens back into Ferelden. I didn't realise that's where Anders… strange where fate takes us, isn't it?"

Everyone was still staring at her and she realised too late that most people likely didn't go around casually talking about boons they'd received from royalty.

"By the Maker!" Julien's hand flew to his chest. "You're _her_?"

That's what had given her away? Not the part about killing Howe? Marie covered her mouth with her hands. Solana didn't know if she was pleased or mortified.

"Depends who you mean," Solana said, awkwardly, struggling to make eye contact.

"You mean to tell me, I've had the Hero of Ferelden staying under my roof and-"

"-oh this is a disaster!" Marie cut him off. "Oh, why didn't you say anything? We would have - we could have - we only served you two courses! And we were talking about Val Royeaux's sugar! There was no entertainment! What you must think of us!"

Now Solana remembered exactly why she didn't like telling people who she was.

"And you were almost murdered in our very home!" Marie exclaimed. "By the Mak-"

"Ugh!" Cullen was flung forward. In a blur of limbs, Nathaniel darted for the window and dived through.

Cullen swore. He ran after him but paused at the window frame. They were on the second storey and he was still wearing his armour. He look out at the black, rainy forest beyond and swore again.

Julien spun and rushed out, calling names that Solana assumed belonged to servants or guards that could mount a pursuit. He almost barrelled into Camille, who hovered just outside the door.

* * *

Celeste jerked awake, finding herself in an unfamiliar room with the words of that song drifting through her head. _We will cut these knotted ties and some may live and some may die._

She blinked, trying to figure out where she was, trying to remember how she got there. The last thing she recalled was falling asleep with Ren in her arms, the taste of elfroot in her throat. And Raleigh watching over her.

But she wasn't in a cave now, and her leg no longer hurt. She shifted it experimentally, and it offered no objection. Around her, grey shadows gave the barest of outlines to furniture against the black of night. There were other beds beside her own. The infirmary, then. But where was Ren?

She swung her legs off the bed and made to get up, but dizziness overwhelmed her. The soft bed welcomed her back and she fell into dreams once again.

Weak sunlight was streaming in through a nearby window when she next awoke. There was activity in the infirmary now. Healers were moving around and people were talking in low voices. One of the voices was familiar, a deep rumble with a thick Ferelden accent. Celeste closed her eyes again and let it wash over her. When had she become so attracted to his voice? There was nothing special about the accent, that was for sure. She'd heard it on every street corner where she'd grown up. His years in Kirkwall hadn't softened it one bit.

"And then they left us there, in the middle of the blighted wilderness, in the middle of winter. And we were to survive until they came back for us," he said.

Another familiar voice spoke then, a much _younger_ voice. "What? Without supplies even?"

"Of course without supplies. It's survival training, innit?"

"But you could have died!"

"Look, a Templar who can't survive his survival training isn't much use to the Chantry is he?

"Didn't they care?" Ren asked.

"They cared about us being strong enough to hunt rogue mages."

Ren fell silent.

"Now, Raleigh," Celeste chimed in. "You're not indoctrinating my son are you?"

"Mom!" Ren was at once upon her, his arms locked around her neck, the weight of his body over her chest. She struggled into a sitting position, while still holding him to her.

"Indoctrinating him against the Chantry, maybe," Samson answered. "That a problem?"

He was seated on a stool beside her bed, dressed in leathers, with his sword propped up beside him. He smiled and she must have still had elfroot in her system because it felt like she was floating.

"How're you doing? How's the leg?"

She nodded. "It seems well. Thank you. If you hadn't found me last night. If you hadn't…"

He waved off her thanks. "I'm glad you're awake, didn't want to go on duty without seeing you."

She had a vague memory then of Skyhold guards. _"Raleigh Samson, you're under arrest."_

And Samson giving her over to someone else's care. _"It's going to be fine, love."_

Surely she had dreamed that part.

"You aren't in trouble, for leaving Skyhold?" she asked.

Samson glanced at Ren. "Nah. Everything's fine."

Ren pulled away from her. "They wanted to arrest him and throw him in the dungeon! But I set them straight. Ser Samson's a hero."

"Don't say that too loudly, lad," Samson chided, but he was still smiling. He was smiling so broadly he seemed to be glowing.

"But it's true," Ren protested.

"Why don't you go wait outside for a bit, hey? I'd like to have a word with your mum before I go report in."

Ren looked between them. His eyes narrowed but he nodded and left.

They weren't exactly alone. There was an injured soldier in the neighbouring bed, a healer at the other end of the room. Samson's eyes dropped to his lap. He reached under his brigandine and pulled out a folded wad of parchment.

"My, uh, penmanship isn't very good I'm afraid." He passed it to her. "But there are things that needed to be said, and well, I was up half the night thinking how to say them. Realised I couldn't to your face."

Her heart started pounding, her mouth was instantly dry as she accepted the note. "Do they really need to be said?" she asked. Her voice wasn't as steady as she would have liked. His gaze travelled up to hers. She saw the fear in his look, and then hope.

She had a good idea what his note might contain, and her chest ached just thinking of it. He'd been the one to insist they stay away from each other. Then, on the battlements…

He set his jaw, his eyes fixed on a point on her mattress. "You don't need to respond," he said, as if he'd heard her thoughts. "But I needed to say it. Wouldn't have forgiven myself if I hadn't." He scratched his brow, drew a breath. "Anyways. I'd best be going, before Rylen regrets letting me off yesterday. I'll send Ren in again, shall I?"

She nodded mutely. With one more look at the note, then her face, he left the infirmary.

* * *

 _Dear Celeste,_

 _You know, in all the years I've written letters, I think that's the first time I've meant that? You are dear to me, but then you know that. This is not a love letter. I'm not one for fancy words. If I were to write poetry it would probably be the kind of shite drunk men proclaim in the early hours at the whorehouse. That is to say, it would be laughable and it wouldn't make much sense. And if senselessness was my aim, well, I woulda spoken to you instead of writing, wouldn't I?_

 _Thing is, you've said where you stand. You've made it clear that you can never see me as anything more than a friend. I respect that. I'm not gonna try woo you with love letters and bad poetry. But I wanted to be clear about something._

 _If you don't wish to be with me in a romantic sense because of who I am, then that is fair enough. After all, I am Raleigh Samson, Corypheus's general. The blood on my hands… it sickens me just to think of it. And if it sickens you too, that I can understand. But then, you've always said you could look past that, you know? I can have a second chance to be a good person. That kinda thing. So maybe it's not that that puts you off. Maybe it's me. I'm an uncultured git, I know it. I lived on the streets for years, and in the childhood I knew before the Templars, I was a wild little shit, running around the gutters, getting into trouble. Little wonder my folks gave me away, really. And if you cannot see yourself with a man like me, no one would blame you. Least of all me. Honest._

 _But see, this thing keeps chasing around my head. You didn't say you didn't want me because of any of that. And maybe you were trying to spare my feelings. That would be just like you. But maybe, on the off chance that you were being honest, I needed to say this._

 _I know little enough about your man, but if he was anything like Ren, he was brave and kind. And if he was anything like most Templars I know, he was duty-bound and honorable._

 _I am none of those things._

 _Templars are disciplined beyond measure. Me, I tried. I really did. But the rules got to me. They made me itch. I could never stand for the way we treated mages, for one. I know, I know. That's what you'd expect me to say given that I'm now courting a member of the mage rebellion, but it's no less true._

 _What I'm trying to say is, I'm not an ordinary Templar. You'll never find me in a chantry on my knees. But I know in some ways I may seem a Templar still. Perhaps the way I carry myself? I can change that, Celeste. I'll find a way to._

 _Or maybe it's the way I look? I know I'm nothing pretty. But maybe I'm not pretty in a way that calls to mind the man you once loved. That I can change too. Give the word and I'll go blonde as Cullen. You did it with magic, right? Or I'll grow a beard or… just tell me what you want me to change and I will see to it. I'm getting a stipend for my Inquisition work. I can put some aside if the magic costs a lot. I don't mind._

 _Maker, I sound desperate. I considered scratching that all out, but that's the heart of this whole thing. I_ _am_ _desperate. I know you feel something too. I've seen it, Celeste. There was a moment last night. I had my hand up your skirt, getting at your stocking. And the way you looked at me. There have been other moments like that. I treasure them like a dragon and her horde. I've asked myself so often if I imagined them. Did I, Celeste?_

 _Because the thing is, and this is why I needed to write this whole long ramble down because the thing is, Celeste. I love you. There. Shaking like a fool. You can probably see from my writing. But there it is. I love you._

 _Feels good to get it out. Even if you know it already. Feels right._

 _Last night when you and the boy were asleep I realised it well and truly. I realised that pretending that I care for you no more than a friend would is hopeless. Because every time I see you I fall deeper, Celeste. I'm drowning._

 _I want to be part of your life. Not just here where our paths happen to cross. Not just now, while you're young and so very beautiful. Forever._

 _And as I said already, I'm not brave. Not brave enough to say this to you when I realised it._

 _But I was honest when I said I'd be there for you regardless. You and Ren. Anything you need. And I do not demand your affections in return. That's not what this is. Not at all._

 _If you don't wish to be with me because of who I am, I accept that._

 _But please, don't let it be because of who he_ _was_ _._

 _I likely can't measure up to your Templar, even if I wanted to. Everything else I can change._

 _I've never lost anyone I loved, so I can't imagine what it is you're feeling. But perhaps I can help you, as you helped me. Perhaps we can talk about it, perhaps I can help you move on?_

 _He is dead and I am here._

 _Am I a callous bastard for saying that? Is it wrong of me to try to change your mind?_

 _I almost lost you last night, Celeste. And it made me realise that maybe we don't have as much time as we imagine. Maybe instead of holding these things to my chest I need to man up and just say them, while I can._

 _Couldn't get quite that far. But here's my best attempt. I should stop writing before I humiliate myself any further._

 _Yours,_

 _Raleigh_

* * *

A/N: So, in case anyone's confused about what's going on with Nathaniel, in this version of the story Anders wasn't there when Hawke saved Nathaniel during 2. Nathaniel was, in fact, in the deep roads since then doing whatever he and the Wardens were doing and staying out of politics. Solana never took over Vigil's Keep. Instead there was an Orlesian woman who was horrible to him and treated him like a slave, so the anger was left to fester.

Much of this (and more) will be explained later as part of the story, but I just wanted to head off any confusion now :)


	89. Promise

Cullen rubbed his eyes and massaged his temples. He hadn't slept. How could he? Solana had nearly been murdered while he'd been right downstairs drinking brandy and listening to noble prattle.

He'd joined the hunt for Nathaniel, but they'd returned before dawn, unsuccessful. Seemed the man was as adept at escaping as his friend Anders. Solana had stayed upstairs, surrounded by servants. They must have dosed her with some sort of sedative, because when he'd finally returned to their room, she'd been asleep in the middle of the bed, breathing deeply, haloed by her bright hair.

Sleep had held no appeal for him. He'd taken a dose of lyrium to steady his nerves and then he'd sat in a chair at her side the rest of the night. He'd watched her even breath, her parted lips. He'd watched the way her eyelids twitched. He'd counted the new freckles across her nose, courtesy of their travels in the sun. His chest felt hollow. He'd suspected Nathaniel immediately. Why hadn't he acted sooner? Why had he let him get away?

Solana stirred as the forest came alive with birdsong, and Cullen moved to his pack, before she discovered his vigil and he was forced to explain it.

The d'Arbres made leaving difficult. Not intentionally, of course. But now that they were aware of Solana's celebrity, they made a great show of insisting she stay so that they could be proper hosts. When Cullen managed to get across the urgency of their mission, they offered bountiful supplies and even a horse to carry them. Solana politely declined both. As it was, they'd stripped their packs down to bare essentials. He didn't want her to carry anything on her injured shoulder, so she carried one bag now with their supplies and he carried the tents (he'd managed to wrap his lyrium pouch securely in his own tent and if he was careful when they set up camp he was confident she'd be none the wiser).

He was able to breathe easier once they'd put some distance between themselves and the Orlesians, but Solana dawdled. To his consternation, she removed two of the bread rolls that the d'Arbres had provided from the pack and started shredding them.

He bit his tongue for as long as he could. After all, she had survived quite the ordeal. When eventually he could keep silent no more and asked her what she thought she was doing, she cited an Orlesian children's story about people lost in the woods.

"Maker's breath," he muttered. "Very well, it was my fault that we got lost yesterday. It was my fault that you came to harm. Satisfied?"

She stared at him blankly for a whole heartbeat before she started laughing and shook her head. "Pass your sword, will you?"

"What?"

She nodded towards his weapon, still smiling. "I'm not leaving a trail for _us_."

With a sigh at her cryptic answer, he withdrew his sword and handed it to her. She pulled a lock of hair from the back of her head. It was a deep red, hardly touched by the sun. She sliced through it.

When she started fastening some of the strands to the branch of a tree, he realised what she must mean to do. "You're trying to lure Nathaniel?"

His heart hammered at the very thought of it. As much as he wanted to face the man, he didn't like the idea of inviting his attention.

"No, definitely not," Solana said.

"Who then?"

"Someone who I believe has answers. Can you please trust me?"

His annoyance flared. "Should I?"

She groaned, her fists flexed. "So we're back to this, are we?"

"Back to what precisely?"

She flung her arms out, without turning to look at him. She was still holding his sword and it thwacked into an overhead branch but she paid it no mind.

"Careful with that!" He rushed forward and wrested it from her grip.

She glared up into his face. "Oh, do pardon the mage, she wasn't aware it had sharp edges."

"I didn't mean -" He caught himself raising his voice. "You know what, keep it. Bash it about, blunt the edges to your heart's content. I'm certain we'll find a smithy to repair it at whatever ruins Anders is holed up in." He let go, his temper thrumming hot through his veins.

She pulled away and marched onwards. He followed. It was a little while before she stopped and sliced off another piece of hair. He felt the loss, even though he knew it was silly. A few strands of hair at the back of her head would do nothing to alter her appearance. And what right did he have to dictate how she should present herself? Still, he loved her hair.

"I'm sorry," Solana said suddenly. She held out the sword to him. "I know how much you value your possessions. I should not be so careless with them."

Was that a barb at his particular nature? He examined her features, and found no accusation there. "It's all right, you keep it. I apologise as well."

After a few minutes more of walking in silence, the sound of rushing water indicated they were approaching the river once again. Even though they'd been travelling less than an hour, Solana asked if they might stop so she could check her wound.

"I'll take a look," he offered.

Her response was to hand him a water skin and ask that he go and refill it. With the sweetest smile, she suggested he might wash off and cool down at the same time.

He expelled a breath. "You're hoping for your rendezvous."

"Alright, I am. And I think that they might find it less intimidating if you were elsewhere." She passed him his sword and nodded in the direction of the river.

Cullen shook his head. "And what if I refuse? What if I do not wish to leave you alone?"

"I'll be fine."

"You were very nearly killed yesterday, Solana, in these very woods." Did he really have to remind her? "If you think I'm going to leave you here, while the culprit is still at large, then you're very much mistaken."

Her eyes met his then and he wasn't surprised by the look of defiance he found there.

"Honestly, some days I think you could be on the second floor of a burning tavern and you'd still tell me you were perfectly fine and capable of handling yourself."

"Well I would be, I can cast ice, remember?"

He groaned. "Hardly my point."

She ran her fingers through her hair in obvious frustration. "Watch if you must, but I do think it would be best if you stay out of sight."

* * *

The training arena was a lot bigger than it had been just yesterday. Samson had had a busy morning. After drills, he'd rounded up the Skyhold brats and put them to work stuffing a few new dummies and fashioning wooden swords out of sticks for those who hadn't managed to get hold of their own training weapons.

Long as he was busy, he didn't think, he didn't worry about Celeste's reaction to his letter. Every time he thought about it, his heart started racing. Maker, why had he given it to her? He should have just crumpled it up and thrown it into the fire.

Every time he caught a flash of blonde hair, he stiffened. He hoped she wouldn't come see him here, in front of the children. He needed to keep it together. But what if she didn't come to him at all? If she just started avoiding him, that would be worse.

 _Stupid idiot. What did you go do that for? Things were good. Now you've gone and made them complicated._

By noon, he had the kids paired up and practising basic swordplay against each other. The little mageling was small, but she made up for it with ferocity. Mikel, despite what Samson would have expected, was careful with his younger partner, even gentle.

"Are these our new recruits, then?"

Samson's heart jumped into his throat at the approaching voice. Rylen, not Celeste. Not even a woman. What was _wrong_ with him?

"I hope you don't mind?"

"Mind? Why would I mind?" Rylen stood beside Samson, an easy smile on his weathered face.

Wooden swords clashed. Ren was paired with his friend Ant. Facing off against a less-experienced foe, it was easy to see Ren's improvement. His posture was correct, and he was paying good attention to Ant's body language. But, being Ren, he didn't take advantage. In fact, he coached his opponent, repeating instructions that Samson had given him not a week prior.

"I figure it keeps them out of trouble," Samson said to Rylen.

"I agree. Which is why I told the concerned parents who just visited me that they should give you a chance."

 _Oh shit._ He scanned Rylen's expression. There was no sign of annoyance. His attention was fixed on the training. "I apologise for that. They should have come to me."

"To be honest, I think many of them are still terrified of you."

Samson crossed his arms, not sure what to say to that. Perhaps silence was best. He tried to offer all of the children equal instruction, but his eyes kept drifting to Ren.

"He's a good boy," Rylen commented, no doubt noticing his attentions.

"He is," Samson agreed.

"Pity about his father."

Yeah, he was at that age where a boy needed a man to fashion himself after, someone to guide him and influence him. As much as Samson longed to be that, he knew he wasn't the best choice. Not by a long shot. "A lad needs a good role model," he agreed.

To his surprise, Rylen snorted. A glance at him confirmed that he was frowning, shaking his head. "Well, 'good' would be stretching it."

Samson watched him, trying to determine his meaning. Was he referring to Samson's suitability? Or to Ren? Well, may as well come out and ask. "What do you mean by 'stretching it'?"

"I didn't mean anything by it. I just, well, you know. It's just your phrasing."

"My phrasing?" Samson kept his voice level. Last thing he wanted was to start an argument with the one man standing between him and a lifetime in the dungeons.

Rylen's mouth twitched into an almost smile. "Forgive me. The way you said it, it was almost like you were implying his father was a good man. I know you did not mean it that way."

"You know something about his father?"

Samson's question seemed to startle Rylen. The smile disappeared and he stood up a bit straighter. "Only what Cullen told me."

Cullen. Of course. They would have served together at Kinloch. Cullen had known the man. Dammit, why did Cullen have to choose now of all times to go adventuring? Maker knew when he'd be back and Samson was desperate to know more. "So what did he say, then?"

Rylen held up his hands defensively. "We weren't exchanging gossip if that's what you mean. He only mentioned in passing the trouble that Celeste had."

"Trouble?"

Rylen's eyes narrowed. "If you're uncertain of my meaning, perhap it's something best discussed with her."

Samson wasn't so easily dissuaded. "You mean when he died?"

Rylen shifted uncomfortably, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Just how much do you know of Celeste's past? How she left the Circle?"

So he thought Samson didn't know about the blood magic.

"I know she used to be... well, she was one of the ones who rebelled, wasn't she?" He was careful with his words. He wanted to know what happened, but he wasn't going to be stupid about it.

"Yes, she was," Rylen confirmed.

"And I know that he was a Templar who died when the Circle fell," Samson prompted. When Rylen didn't immediately respond, he added, "No doubt she blames herself for that still."

"Oh, I'd say," Rylen said, in that same humorous way he'd made the comment about 'stretching it'.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Rylen shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I walked right into this one, didn't I? Is there any chance you will forget this conversation and go about your day?"

"None."  
"Look, Samson, I don't want to overstep. I know you have a friendship with the young lady. Perhaps you need to ask her."

The pieces were starting to slot together. He didn't want to believe them. "You're saying he wasn't good? That she was directly responsible for his death?" That couldn't be true. Ren idolised him.

Rylen sighed. "Look, this is just what I heard. Cullen wanted to assure me that she was not a threat. As he told it, she didn't use blood magic for its power, or even to escape the Circle. She used it to escape _him_."

* * *

Samson found Celeste exactly where he'd expected. She was alone in the dim pantry, packing away supplies. _Of course she got right back to work soon as her leg was good enough._ He hovered by the doorway, fighting against the roiling in his stomach, the ache in his chest, trying to find words. He'd left the children in Rylen's care, because he had needed to see her, needed to apologise for his desperate pleading, for putting her in such an awful position. Shame like he hadn't felt since he'd first told her of his work for Corypheus prickled his neck.

"Do I really remind you of him?" he managed. His voice came out soft, constricted. Had the pantry not been completely silent, he doubted he would have been heard at all.

She turned, her eyes growing large as they fell on him, larger as they searched his face. "Raleigh…"

"Do I really remind you of the man who tormented you?" This time, his voice was stronger. "Who _abused_ you?" His voice cracked.

She stared at him for a long moment. "Who told you?" she asked.

 _No denial._ "It doesn't matter." He rubbed his face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why? So you could feel sorry for me?"

He hugged himself. How could he think he reminded her of some dashing hero? Someone she'd _loved_? He was Raleigh Samson. How could he remind her of anyone but a villain? If only he hadn't given her the letter, then there could have been some way back from this.

"I didn't want you to think any less of me." Her voice sliced through his self pity. She mimicked his stance, staring down at her feet.

"Less of you?"

She didn't answer. He swallowed, finding within him the courage to step further into the room. He closed the door behind him, plunging them into darkness.

There was silence as he fumbled with the flint to light one of the wall sconces. "Things happened. In Kirkwall. When I was on the streets." His words were absorbed by the shadows. "It's not the same. I know it's not the same. I took coin, for one."

It felt like some wild creature was trapped in his chest, fighting to get out. He almost dropped the flint, his hands were shaking so badly. "Point is, I'm not trying to compare battle scars or anything. Just that I… can't imagine what it must have been like. To live with that, trapped there." _Click._ A spark, but it didn't catch. "You… did the right thing, killing the bastard. It's what I would have done. And no one should make you feel ashamed of that." He let out a breath, holding the flint in his trembling fist. "And I understand why you don't want me to touch you."

"I do." She was was closer than he'd expected.

The sconce burst to light, illuminating her pale face, as she withdrew her hand from casting the spell. "I do want you to. To touch me." She squeezed her eyes shut. "But every time you get close it's like he's here, in my head. And I'm back there. And I can't get away."

"Because I'm similar to him?" Samson asked, his voice little more than a breath.

"Because you're a man." She shook her head. "I can't... when you... he'd press me against the wall like that. He was stronger than me. And he… he was tall. He'd look down at me and whisper… his commands. Hot breath on my face. Calloused hands. Voice like stone. The things he'd say. The things he'd make me do. I'm broken. He broke me."

"You're not broken."

She opened her eyes, staring straight into his. "Yes I am. I can't even stand to be touched. How am I supposed to… a romance would be impossible. Don't you see that?"

"We don't need to touch."

"Raleigh…"

"No, listen. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Celeste. The best person I've met. You read my letter, right?"

It occurred to him she might not have, that he was making a fool of himself again. But she nodded, biting her lower lip.

"So you know how I...I feel. What I have with you now, it's already better than anything I've had before… Void, anything I ever _imagined_ before. I am yours. Long as you want me, whatever you want me for. And if I can never touch you, so be it. I don't need that."

"Raleigh…" Her voice wavered. Had he upset her further? He searched her face in the glow of the fire.

She plunged forward. Before he even knew what was happening, she was pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around his torso, head buried against him.

He stood completely still. He wanted to draw her to him, squeeze her in delight, cover her face with kisses. His racing heart commanded him to. But he dared not move for fear he might ruin everything. When she didn't immediately pull away, he hovered a hand against her back, fighting his overwhelming desire to hold her. In the end, he settled for breathing her in. Her hair smelled like herbs and baked bread.

"I don't want you to change anything," she said, voice muffled by his shirt. Her shoulders moved on a deep breath. "Besides, you'd look terrible blonde."

His nerves fled his body in a rush of laughter. "I could go red? With a big, red bushy beard. How'd that suit you?"

"It would suit me better than it would suit you."

He couldn't argue with that.

* * *

Something moved in the bushes. It was probably Cullen, but Solana reached for her staff just in case. She waited, tensed, holding her breath.

Even though Cullen was out of sight, she'd been able to feel his disapproval growing with every passing minute. She knew he was anxious to make up the time they'd lost. She was too. But the stars would only get them so close and even if they stumbled upon the location where Anders was hiding with the phylacteries, she didn't want to go in unprepared. If there was even the slightest chance...

The bushes moved again. Power for a barrier tingled in Solana's palm. If it was Nathaniel…

Then a small, cloaked figure pushed through the leaves. Even before she lowered her hood, Solana let out her breath in relief. A protruding stomach made the figure's identity obvious.

"Camille. I was starting to worry you wouldn't come."

The girl's jaw worked as she looked around the clearing. She unfolded a hand, revealing the crumpled note that Solana had slipped to her that morning.

 _I can help Raoul. Follow the trail. I'll wait for you by the river._

"I should not have left. If the d'Arbres notice I'm gone…"

Solana approached her slowly. "It's alright. You've done the right thing. What I told you last night is true. The Wardens are in danger. And you know now who I am." She'd overheard enough of the encounter with Nathaniel.

"You are the Hero of Ferelden."

"Exactly. I'm _The_ Warden. If you can trust anyone to keep the Wardens safe, it's me."

Camille shook her head. "No, you misunderstand. I did not come for the reason you think. I do not know where he is."

Solana looked to the trees. Had she led Nathaniel here?

Camille's hands rested on her belly. "I came because I wanted - needed - answers. You claim to be The Warden, as you said. But you… you are not…" She closed her eyes as if to gather courage. "You're not a Warden. You do not feel like a Warden."

"What do you mean?"

Without opening her eyes, Camille said, "Since carrying his child I can _feel_ it. But not with you."

 _All Warden children carry the Taint…_

"You can sense the Taint through the baby?"

Camille didn't answer. "It means one of two things. One, you are _lying_ about who you are and Nathaniel was right." Her voice trembled. "Or two, you were cured and there really is a cure. There really is hope." She caressed her stomach.

 _Hope._ Solana remembered that sickening helplessness too well.

"Does Raoul know about his child?" Solana asked.

Camille pressed her lips together.

"I'm not lying about who I am." She wasn't sure how to continue. The cure that she'd found wouldn't be viable for Camille. "I was in your position. I was pregnant, my baby was Tainted. I did something that cured us both but at terrible cost-"

"So you were cured?"

"Yes, but-"

"There is a cure?" Camille's eyes shone.

"It's not that simple."

Camille hugged her belly, ducking her chin and smiling and Solana knew there was no convincing her otherwise. She waited for the inevitable question, debating how she might avoid answering it, conscious that Cullen would likely step in if he thought she was in any way encouraging demon possession. Which she wouldn't, _couldn't._

But Camille said instead, "That's what Raoul went to find. It was a secret, I was not to tell anyone. No matter who asked. He heard a rumour, through the Wardens. Some were moving north. Some wanted out of the bond. There was a cure, the whispers said. He needed only to follow."

"He left you to go find a cure?"

She nodded again. "He left the Wardens too. That's why Nathaniel wishes to find him. Raoul referred to it… he said, 'I'm going rogue.' He made it sound so dashing. Do you truly think he is in danger?"

Solana drew a deep breath, the weight of all the implications resting on her chest, making it difficult to breathe, let alone think. Anders knew how she'd been cured. He'd been there. So, he knew the cure. But why would he lure Grey Wardens to him with the promise of curing them? What loyalty did he have to them? He'd run from them. And what did all this have to do with the phylacteries? Only one way she could imagine.

"I think that the man offering the cure will ask a price," she said. "I think he's planning something big and he's going to convince these Wardens to help him in exchange for this cure. But the cure itself is incredibly dangerous. I can't imagine Anders doing it. He wouldn't."

"But Justice might," Cullen said.

Camille squeaked, jerking in fright at his emergence from the trees behind Solana. Solana turned to him, a retort on her tongue. But his expression silenced her. He was looking at the ground, his eyebrows drawn together. She would have expected that squareness to his jaw that came whenever he was determined, like when he had first warned against welcoming Anders into the Inquisition or when he'd argued with her earlier, but this wasn't that.

"Anders wouldn't let him," Solana said softly, but she wasn't certain anymore and it carried through in her voice.

"We're not dealing with Anders. We're dealing with Justice. I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" Solana was aware of Camille standing gaping at her, but she couldn't move her focus from Cullen.

"The eluvian. It was the only way to get to you. He warned me."

"Cullen, speak sense."

His eyes snapped up to hers. "I ordered Anders to give full control over to Justice so that we might save you. There was no other way. This is my fault, all of it. That's why I'm here. That's why Leliana sent _me_. You thought we might be able to reason with him. I'm telling you, we won't. He's gone. I'm sorry."

He may as well have punched her in the gut. She had to stay strong, seem unaffected, so that Camille would continue to have faith in her. But inside her ice spread out from her middle, cold and painful. Her body felt like that frozen lake near Haven. As she turned her attention back to Camille, it took all of her effort not to crack. Anders was gone and it wasn't Cullen's fault, it was hers. They'd come after _her_. And now she might very well have to kill what was left of him.

"If what Cullen's saying is true, then Raoul is in even greater danger than I first feared. Please, we need to find him and the other Wardens. "

"I don't know where they are," Camille insisted.

"I think Justice is going to use them to attack the Chantry, and then he's going to give them their reward and it will kill them. If you want to see Raoul again, tell me where he is. We don't have much time."

Camille gasped, taking a step backwards. Her eyes, which had been shining with joy just a few minutes earlier, now glittered with tears.

"Sorry," Solana muttered. "I didn't mean to frighten you." _Yes, you did._

Camille lowered her hands. "I do not know where to find him. But he did want me to send a message, to a place, when the baby was born."

"A place?" Cullen asked.

Camille tensed at his sharp tone. "Yes. A… a shop. Next village over. Gideon's. That's all I know."

"This Gideon must be in contact with him then," Cullen said, stating the obvious. "Thank you, that's valuable."

"It is," Solana agreed.

But Camille stared at the forest floor. "He said that when he returned we could be together, as a family. He wanted to do this for us. Cure himself, cure the baby. If he dies…"

"I won't let that happen," Solana assured her.

"Solana…" Cullen's expression said everything he didn't dare say out loud. He thought she was foolish making a promise like that. For all they knew, Raoul was already dead.

"Maybe when he's safe…" Camille said wistfully. "Maybe then, you can cure them?"

"Maybe," Solana said and she hoped that Cullen wouldn't see fit to correct her.

He didn't, but his brow knitted with concern and it stayed that way long after they'd bid farewell to Camille.


	90. Lost in Fear

_A/N:_ _Parts of this chapter are based around info revealed in the Bioware short, Paper & Steel (available free on the wiki). If you haven't read it, I've included the basics in a note at the end of the chapter. _

* * *

_Pillars of red lyrium rose from the ground, casting vivid shadows against the cold stone floor. This was his place. Around him, his men worked tirelessly to follow his commands to the best of their abilities. He was proud of them, proud of everything they'd achieved, everything they were willing to do, everything they were willing to sacrifice. But something was wrong. There was a tang in the air. It tasted like fear._

 _Samson turned around as the messenger entered - nothing more than a silhouette against the bright square of the entrance to the shrine. He was out of breath, panting._

 _"It's the Inquisition, sir, they're here."_

 _Time sped forward, a skip into the future where he was surrounded by panic, choked in smoke. His men tipped parchments and schematics into bonfires. He knew he'd given the order, even though he couldn't remember it. His skin burned, his sweat like acid between his flesh and The Armour._

 _"Samson," a cold flat voice said behind him. He turned to find Maddox. "I have performed the calculations. There is no time."_

 _"It's alright-" Samson started to reassure him, even though he should have known that Tranquil could not feel fear._

 _"We must stay," Maddox said. "It is the only way. The decision has been made. We have decided it is best."_

 _Best… his echoing voice pulled Samson further into the past, like a fish hook to his gut._ "You should leave me. It would be best."

 _Curled up beneath the rubble of the broken Circle, leg trapped, bleeding out. The shadows obscured most of Maddox's face. Samson had gone to the Circle to find him, while the streets of Kirkwall ran with blood and magic. He'd heard the news in Dark Town - that the Templars and the Mages were finally having it out, that the Chantry was gone, that Meredith had called for the Right, and he'd run to the Circle._

 _The Tranquil were always the first to die._

 _It took near on an hour to dig him out. Samson didn't have much strength to him. But time jumped forward again, and he was bearing his weight - arm around his shoulder - through the city, down to the docks to hide until it was all over._

 _"You should leave me," Maddox repeated. "It would be best."_

 _"I'm not gonna leave you."_

 _"You have no choice."_

 _Back in the shrine, the Inquisition closing in. Maddox pale and small._

 _"You must leave now, Samson. I will stall them."_

 _"Stall them? They'll take you back with them!"_

 _"No. They won't."_

 _The meaning of his words had not been clear, but now Samson understood. Maddox had never intended to survive._

 _Fighting outside._

 _"They're here!"_

They're here...

Samson shot up in bed, gasping, his heart pounding with remembered fear and guilt so raw he tasted it. It tasted like lyrium.

He scrubbed his face, finding it soaked. His shirt clung to him.

 _Maddox…_ the pain in his chest was like a bubble, pushing everything out, even delight that Celeste had accepted his affections. Or perhaps _because_ she had. Because he had been happy. Because she had brought him back to himself.

Being the villain was armour far greater than any made from red lyrium. He could do anything without remorse if he convinced himself he was beyond caring. But now it was different. Now he _did_ care. And she didn't look at him like a villain, she looked at him like Maddox had before the lyrium brand. Like an ally. Like a treasured friend. Like…

Samson felt for the candle on his bedside table. Light. He needed light! Light to chase away the ghosts of things he'd buried so long ago.

His fingers brushed against paper. _What?_ He grasped for the unfamiliar shape. It crinkled as his hand closed around it. He had a horrible sinking feeling he knew what it was, even as he hoped he was mistaken and that it was, perhaps, a letter from Celeste or a note belonging to one of his roommates. But no, as he drew it into a beam of moonlight his stomach clenched with cold dread. A paper bird.

With shaking fingers, he unfolded it.

The light of morning hadn't reached the battlements yet. The sconces still burned on the walls. Rylen was already at his desk. He was pouring over a report, but he looked up when Samson entered.

"Samson? What can I do for you? I wasn't expecting you for a few hours yet."

Samson's mouth was dry and his eyeballs ached as if he had been crying - which he _hadn't_ been. "I wish to leave Skyhold."

Rylen straightened. "Beg your pardon?"

Samson scratched his scalp, not sure how best to approach this. "It's a personal matter. I won't be gone long. I will come back. You can send whoever you like with me."

Rylen's squinted at him. "Is this to do with your young lady?"

"No. Nothing to do with Celeste. And you shouldn't say that she's mine. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Rylen came around the desk.

"Yeah. Don't want her associated with me. Look, I'll only be gone a week. I need to - there's something I need to see for myself."

"I'm sorry Samson, but Commander Cullen was very clear-"

"You're his replacement though, yeah?" Didn't that mean he had the same authority?

Rylen nodded. "But Cullen was explicit in his wishes. You've already left once and I chose to overlook that because you had sufficient cause, but I'm afraid I can't permit you to go dashing off on a personal errand. There's enough up in the air at the mo-"

"And you don't trust me."

"My feelings on the matter are entirely irrelevant. If word got out-"

"Yeah, I get it. It's bad enough that the Inquisition hasn't killed me, they can't very well let me go wander about."

"Perhaps when Cullen returns you can broach the subject with him."

"Yeah. Perhaps."

* * *

"Well, that's the village," Solana said, stating what was obvious through the trees. They could already see flashes of cobbled streets and roof tiles.

The sight invigorated her. After two days of camping, the forest was starting to lose its appeal. The supplies that the d'Arbres had sent were either stale or soggy, her boots were nearly worn through and she was longing to see people - anyone - outside of her dour husband. They'd hardly spoken the past two days, although he'd been polite enough. They'd slept in shifts and travelled without talking unless necessary. Perhaps he'd been preoccupied with worrying about Justice, as she had. Or perhaps he had been nervous of talking lest he start another argument.

As they grew nearer to the village, he surprised her by taking her arm and pulling her gently around to face him. "You go ahead. I… I'm going to see about getting us a room for the night."

It was unlike him to suggest a layover, or th,at she go anywhere alone. Now she was looking at him, she saw he was flushed with a sheen of sweat over his face.

"Cullen, are you well?"

"Quite well." His gaze travelled past hers, to the village.

"You don't seem well." She reached to touch his forehead, but he jerked away. Had he eaten something strange? "Perhaps you should go see a healer."

"No, I don't need a healer. It's the heat. Humidity. I'll be fine when I find an inn. A room. Somewhere cool."

It _was_ humid - she was carrying her cloak over her arm - but it didn't seem to be _that_ humid. Still, she supposed she wasn't wearing layers of armour. "That Fereldan blood of yours?" She offered him a smile.

"Probably. I… would you mind if I take the purse? We can meet at the inn after you've found this store and see about supplies."

"Yes, fine." She lowered the pack and rifled through the pockets, withdrawing the pouch that held the sum of their coin.

She counted out a few pieces for supplies, then handed the rest to him. He accepted it with a grateful smile. "I'll try not to spend all of it."

The words were lighthearted, but he grimaced as he said them. When he walked away, he moved stiffly, as if he'd been riding all day instead of walking.

 _I hope he's right about it just being the heat._

This mission would be difficult enough as it was if they truly were dealing with Justice. They didn't need Cullen coming down with dysentery or something awful like that. A part of her wanted to follow him to the inn, make sure he arrived there safely. But doing so would only annoy him if it was truly just the heat. Talking to this Gideon shouldn't take long. She could check on him after.

The town was not big by Orlesian standards, but it was the largest town they'd seen so far. It was built in a cross shape, with two cobbled roads meeting in a square lined with shops and hawkers selling fruit from the surrounding farms. There were a few houses pressed between businesses with straw roofs that were in obvious need of care. Grass pushed up through the stonework and vines and nettles tried to climb the buildings. It was like many quaint little Orlesian towns that were slowly losing the battle against the allure of city life. In a few generations, this place would likely be buried.

A group of children ran past Solana, playing some game of catch. Her heart clenched with longing. Alise had never felt further away.

Gideon's was not difficult to find. It was right there on the square, a small general store with a tinkling bell over the door. Gideon himself was a middle-aged, red-faced fellow who greeted her warmly as she entered. She spent a few moments browsing before approaching his counter with what she intended to purchase.

"You're not from around here, are ya?" he asked in a clear Kirkwall accent as she placed her coin on the counter.

She smiled, taking the opportunity to lower her pack. Her uninjured shoulder was rubbed raw where she'd been carrying it. "I wasn't expecting to find a fellow Marcher out here."

Gideon guffawed. "What brings a pretty young thing like you into my store?"

It had been a good few years since Solana had been called either pretty or young and she was certain she was nothing of the sort after two days of solid travel. "I'm looking for a friend."

"Well, I'm a little old for you but I'm sure we could find you one in the tavern," the man teased with an exaggerated wink.

Solana's stomach was in knots but she smiled, grateful for his good humour and hoping it held. "A specific friend. A… Grey Warden."

Gideon's expression sobered. "Oh, I haven't seen one of those since the Blight."

She was opening her mouth to respond when the bell above the door tinkled.

"Well, now you have."

Solana recognised the voice instantly. She was already reaching for her staff as she spun. Nathaniel leaned against the wall next to the door. His hair hung lank around his face and he hadn't shaved in a few days.

"What are you doing here?" Solana demanded.

The other customers - a blonde woman and an old man - looked up from their shopping to stare at her, the venom in her voice clearly apparent.

Nathaniel sauntered forward. "Same thing as you. Looking for my _friend_."

"How did you find us? Did you follow us? What did you do to Camille?"

He held up his hands. "I did nothing to Camille. _You_ convinced her to talk. Effective tactic. I must admit I'm impressed, playing sickly to secure time with her, then ever so subtly revealing you're the Hero of Ferelden so she'd trust you."

Solana gritted her teeth. Gideon and his two customers were now staring at her. "I didn't reveal that. You did. Right after you tried to kill me. Get out, Nathaniel."

"And what if I do? What then, Hero? You know I'll keep following you. I want to find those Wardens just as badly as you do." He came closer as he spoke, menacing in his movement and in the way he was looking at her.

"Why?"

"Why do I want to find the Wardens? I should be asking you that. I am the one who is a Warden, after all. I have a vested interest in discovering what's going on here. Why are you here, Hero?"

"I told you."

"You told me you're looking for a dead man."

"That's right. I'm looking to protect people from him. But since you don't believe he's alive, I don't expect to convince you of that."

"Protect people?" He chuckled darkly. "And he's what? A blood mage now?"

She was losing her patience. "Depends, what do you call an abomination using blood magic?"

That seemed to hit home. Nathaniel blinked. "An abomination?"

"I suppose that's as good a name as any," she said sarcastically.

"Anders is an abomination?" Nathaniel asked, his sinister facade falling away.

So he hadn't been listening in on their conversation with Camille as he wanted her to believe. Solana was aware of their audience, not even trying to hide that they were hanging on every word of this conversation. "Anders is possessed by a spirit of Justice. Only, he likes to take little trips into Vengeance when he gets upset."

"Justice?" Nathaniel asked in that same tone, as if she'd just informed him of the Divine's death.

"That's what I said. Maker, you really were living under a rock this past decade weren't you?"

"Several tons of it, actually. Warden. Deep Roads. You know how it is. Wait, no you don't, because you were never a real Warden." The snark was back.

"So what do you suggest then, Howe? Because I'm not going to let you follow me, that is for certain."

He smirked. "You say that as if you have a choice." He unslung his bow from his back. "But I have a different proposal. A duel. You're the mighty Hero of Ferelden so that shouldn't frighten you. If you win, I'll leave you alone. If I win, I get to kill you."

"You're insane."

"Perhaps."

His gaze cut to Gideon and then he advanced towards Solana again. "Look at it this way, Hero. I am giving you an opportunity to defend yourself. I could have just waited until you were out on the road, until you had the information I needed. I could have slit your throat in your sleep."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because then I wouldn't have the chance to show these nice people what I'm capable of. I am certain that if I bring them the head of the Hero of Ferelden they'll be more inclined to tell me where the Wardens are. Don't you think?"

Solana felt the blood drain from her face.

"Oh, you like the sound of that, don't you?" He stared down at her. "An opportunity to rescue the innocents? Isn't that what you came out here for? Now, give me my duel."

She cast a stonefist at his chest.

He flew backwards, through the door and out into the street. She followed him, throwing up a barrier as she stalked towards him. He was on his backside, scrabbling backwards. She heard Gideon calling out to the startled square that she was the Hero of Ferelden and Nathaniel was a Warden gone mad, but she didn't move her eyes from Howe.

"You're just like your father," she growled.

He was gasping for air. "Are you going to murder me now, or will you allow me to set terms?"

* * *

 _A/N Paper & Steel: In this Bioware short, Samson is camped with the Red Templars and Maddox helps him fix a sword. It's revealed that while at the Circle, Maddox once fixed something for Samson as a favour and Samson offered a favour in return. Maddox came to Samson later to ask him to take a letter to his love in the village, which Samson did. With every letter that Maddox sent, he included a folded paper bird that represented freedom from the Circle. At the Red Templar camp, Samson asks Maddox if he ever thinks about the time before he was Tranquil, to which Maddox responds that he can if Samson wants him to. As Samson leaves, however, Maddox makes a bird out of some scraps of steel. _


	91. Bare your blade

Solana glared down at Nathaniel with her arms folded. As much as she desired to wipe that smug look from his lips, she was aware of the audience of villagers. Mage kills non-mage in the middle of a quaint Orlesian village? That never goes well for the mage, no matter who she might be.

"Speak your terms," she said.

He continued to watch her as if sizing her up. If he was trying to intimidate her, it wasn't working. He smiled.

His hand lashed out. Before she even had time to react, she had a face full of sand. Her eyes burned and she spluttered, dashing it away. _The bastard!_ He'd been waiting for her barrier to expire! When she managed to see again, Nathaniel was running across the square. She snatched her staff from her back and sent a bolt of arcane energy after him. It missed.

"Out of the way!" she called to the villagers as she ran after him. They scattered to the edges of the square, but it wasn't often a little forest village saw this kind of spectacle. They hovered in the doorways of shops, or around the corners, peering at the action. This would make fighting him hard. She couldn't use fire or electricity or any other spells that might cause collateral damage.

Nathaniel dived over a cart just as she cast Winter's Grasp at his back. The snap of the ice spell echoed in the square as the cart froze. Then a hush fell as even the onlookers seemed to be holding their breath. Had the spell hit him too?

A murmur passed through the crowd, no one daring to venture near to the cart itself. Solana moved forward cautiously, her staff poised. The closer she came to the cart, the more tension gathered between her shoulder blades. She was almost convinced she'd managed to freeze him, when a pot on a nearby doorstep shattered.

Instinctively she turned towards it. A blur of movement in the corner of her eye was the only warning she had before agony roared up her leg. She staggered, shrieked as her knee slammed into the ground.

Nathaniel scarpered up onto a roof and out of sight.

The pain was red hot, tearing through Solana's senses. She barely had the presence of mind to cast Rock Armour over her skin. It spread from her palms like thick clay, dry and heavy, but the discomfort was nothing compared to the pain. She fell forward, cradling her injured leg. The arrow had torn through the fleshy part of her calf, pinning her skirt to her. Already, the area around the wound was swelling.

The spectators yelled, but their voices blurred away. Another arrow hit her. She felt the impact, but her second skin held. It wouldn't hold for much longer. Nausea washed over her as the pain changed from scarlet to bright white.

For the first time it occurred to her that Nathaniel might actually win this duel.

And then what would happen to Gideon? What would happen to Alise? To Cullen? He would never forgive himself if she died when he'd been so near.

She channelled energy into the wound, just enough healing magic to keep her together, to help her win this fight. She tried to stand. Failed. She couldn't quite get her feet under her. The square floated around her, as if she was half in the Fade. Spots crowded her vision.

 _Shit._ Poison.

Another arrow slammed into her side. Her armour shattered. She flung a stone fist in the direction of the attack. It smashed into a fruit stall. In the spray of produce, she saw Nathaniel jump clear, onto another low roof.

But in her delirium, it was not Nathaniel, but his father. _The flash of the knife in Rendon's hand, the victims strapped to those torture tables. The smell of death._ She drew on her pain, pulling the last of her mana into a tight, hot ball.

A rune manifested in the air above her, spitting and crackling with energy. She closed her eyes, honing in on him, _feeling_ for him. Then she let the energy fly. Bolts of magic so bright they hurt her eyes darted towards Nathaniel. He tried to evade, but the power jolted into him. One bolt, then another, then another. He rolled from the roof, crashed through a marquee and then to the ground, where he convulsed.

Solana struggled to her feet, blood pumping hot through her shaking body. "Surrender!"

He groaned but didn't answer.

She limped towards him. "Surrender!"

He hugged himself as the magic worked through him. "Alright, Hero. You win," he mumbled.

Then he reached into a pocket and slammed a glass bottle to the ground.

It exploded on impact. Noxious green smoke spread out from its shattered remains. The nearest villagers started choking before it even reached Solana. It stung her lungs the way the sand had stung her eyes. It made her stomach heave. She covered her mouth with her robes as she peered through the smoke to try see Nathaniel.

"He's getting away!" someone yelled.

She could just make him out, a dark shadow through the smoke. Her arm jerked to action with old instincts. A spell lashed out of the tip of her staff. Fire. She'd been aiming for his retreating back, but she hit his left arm. He stumbled and she thought she heard him cry out, but then he rounded a corner and she lost sight of him. She tried to follow, but with the immediate danger passed, her body gave in.

She crumpled, weak from mana drain and mind going blank with pain from her leg. Strong hands gripped her shoulder and she hoped it was Cullen, that he'd somehow come to find her. But it was Gideon. He was thanking her, telling her she was a hero. She kept her eyes on the corner where Nathaniel had disappeared as she receded into darkness.

* * *

Skyhold always looked spectacular, but there was something about the way the light hit the battlements on a clear spring day, the way the breeze teased across the leaves on the trees and played in the grass, that made Hawke's heart sing. Or perhaps it was the company.

He'd accompanied Rylen on an inspection of the battlements. They paused in their walk while Rylen jotted some notes about a bird's nest forming in some rafters.

"So…" Hawke ventured when the quill stopped moving. "Did Cullen mention when he'd be back?"

Rylen looked up at him and his heart beat a little faster. "Are you trying to ask how long I'll be here?"

"Maybe." Hawke shifted his weight, a prickle of self-doubt rushing down his back.

"No, he didn't say." Rylen ticked off something else on the board. He dipped his pen into the inkwell and hovered it over the page. "You could come with me, if you'd like."

Hawke's breath stopped. Rylen glanced at him, then back down at his work, too quickly to gauge his expression.

"Come with you?" Hawke repeated, dumbly.

"I realise the Western Approach isn't everyone's mug of ale, but we have a decent setup there, if I do say so myself. Things only try to kill us half the day. The other half, we're killing them. It becomes something of a sport." His eyes lingered on Hawke's expression a moment longer than before. "Something tells me you wouldn't mind being away from the general public for a time."

Hawke's head was still reeling. He hadn't imagined that, it hadn't even occurred to him. He wasn't bound to Skyhold. Corypheus was dead. Solana was Maker knows where. Anders was… a lump formed in his throat.

"I can't just leave."

"Of course you can't, your bar stool would miss you too much." Rylen's retort was meant to be humorous, Hawke knew, but it stung regardless.

"You _know_ why."

Now Rylen's full attention rested on Hawke's face and Hawke wished it wouldn't. Something flickered in the other man's gaze and Hawke knew he understood exactly what he'd meant - that Hawke couldn't leave, because Anders might decide to return - and that it had hurt. But Rylen didn't argue, didn't ask for confirmation. He simply nodded. "Fair enough."

They started moving together along the battlements again, but it didn't feel the same.

* * *

Solana jerked awake to find herself in an unfamiliar room, full of people with unfamiliar faces hovering over her.

"Cullen?" She tried to sit.

"Easy there." Gideon floated into view. He was holding a mug, and he offered it to her. She drank deeply. The water was sweet and cool.

"How long was I out? Did they catch him?"

The crowd drew back as she struggled to her feet. Gideon caught her elbow. "You shouldn't be standing yet. Should she be standing yet?"

The question was addressed to a woman beside him. Solana instantly recognised her as the healer from the mansion. But that wasn't possible, was it? Was she still hallucinating?

The woman gave a tight-lipped smile in greeting. "The effects of magebane don't last long. I'm more concerned with what other poison he might have dipped that arrow in."

 _Arrow._ Solana looked down at her leg, remembering suddenly that she should have been in pain. But it was bound neatly, as her shoulder had been, and she felt nothing. "I'm fine."

"Well that's a relief." Gideon chuckled and pushed is spectacles up his nose. "I don't know what I'd have done if the Hero of Ferelden went and got herself killed for me."

They seemed to be crowded into a small back room. Solana could see the shop through a beaded curtain. The narrow bed where she'd awoken was draped in furs and the rest of the room was packed with boxes. "Gideon, I need to talk to you. Preferably alone."

The gathered throng twittered with excitement, but they left when Gideon cleared his throat and asked them to. The healer stayed, and he didn't tell her to leave.

When the three of them were alone, he put a hand on the healer's shoulder. "This is my daughter, Cara."

 _Daughter. Mage. Kirkwall._ The pieces were there but Solana didn't know how they fit together yet. "I thank you for your assistance, again, Cara. I'm sorry if I put you in danger." Did the villagers know she was a mage?

"Oh, no no no," Gideon assured Solana. "You didn't put us in danger. You saved us from danger. If you hadn't been here when that Howe arrived, I hate to think what might have happened."

"Did they find him?"

"Oh, I, I don't know. We've only been in here a few minutes. The watch hasn't reported back yet."

Good, she hadn't been unconscious for long.

Solana pushed the hair out of her eyes and raked her nails along her scalp. So, Cara had been near the mansion, presumably in the nearest village. Why was she here now? It was too unlikely to be a mere coincidence.

"I know you know where Raoul is," Solana said, dropping all pretense.

Gideon's expression instantly darkened. A good sign.

"Camille told me to ask here. She said she was to write here when the baby came. That you'd be able to get in touch with-"

Gideon sat down heavily on a crate. "You didn't say there was a baby."

Cara flinched.

Of course! Camille had said the _shop_ name, not _his_ name. Solana addressed the next question directly at the healer. "I need to know where the Wardens are. I need to find them before they hurt themselves."

Cara folded her arms. "First answer me this. How is it that Knight-Captain Cullen landed up with a mage? Are you really married or was that all a front for the d'Arbes' benefit?"

 _Mage. Kirkwall._ She knew Cullen from Kirkwall like Hawke did. Like Anders did. Cullen never spoke of his time in the Gallows, but Solana knew the man he must have been. She'd caught a glimpse of it when they'd rescued him from Kinloch. _You must kill everyone up there._

And Cara had seen them at the mansion and recognised him. _Mage. Kirkwall._ Was she working for Anders? Had she come here to warn him that Cullen was nearby?

"Cullen's different now," Solana said.

Magic still frightened him. She recalled the way he'd stood watch over her training lessons, the day Celeste had revealed herself, and their arguments about the future of the Circles. It was clear that he didn't trust magic. But there was magic and then there were the individuals who wielded it. Since she'd been with the Inquisition she'd never once seen him treat a mage with anything less than kindness and respect.

"We are married," she added. And she was surprised at the pride that filled her chest when she declared it. "We have a daughter. She's a mage too."

It was possibly a fib, and likely the truth. Alise had been Tranquil and only Mages were susceptible to Tranquility, weren't they?

"Why are you looking for the Wardens?" Cara asked.

Solana weighed her words. "I think the man leading them is planning war. At the very least a strike against the Chantry."

"Anders?"

Solana jolted. _Confirmation?_ "Yes. Anders. Please understand, he's my friend. I mean him no harm. I only wish to-"

"They're in the woods."

"Cara," Gideon cautioned.

"They come into town ever so often for supplies, pay good money to stay hidden. Won't talk about what they're doing."

"Cara, girl…" Gideon's voice went sing-song. He was gentling her as if she was much younger.

Cara turned to her father, "She's the Hero of Ferelden, dad. If we can't trust her, who can we trust?"

She crossed the room and dug into one of the boxes. Gideon fidgeted. Solana was too surprised to speak.

At length, Cara withdrew a folded piece of parchment. "Thing is, they're not just collecting Wardens, are they?" she asked Solana, frankly.

Solana shook her head. "What have you seen?"

"Last time I was here visiting dad, they approached me. They said I had a duty to fight to keep mages free. I told them I'm done with that. Spent most my life afraid. Now I live in a village where nobody bats an eyelash at my magic. They need a healer and they appreciate me, as a person. I don't want to get caught up in some war." She passed Solana the parchment. "They gave me this in case I changed my mind."

Gideon rubbed his face and sighed. "Cara, if they trace this back to you…"

"The Hero won't let harm come to us." She looked at Solana significantly. "Isn't that right?"

"That's right." The parchment held a rough map. Solana's heart beat a little faster. "I'll admit I thought you must have come here to warn Anders we were looking for him." _Why are you here and not in your village?_ Was the unasked question.

Cara gave a hollow laugh and rubbed her arms. "The mages are the ones in charge, you know? The Wardens… they seem tired. I don't know how else to say it. Drawn. Sombre. I don't know if maybe all Wardens are like that. The mages… they're proud. An odd thing to see, coming from Kirkwall, I can tell you that much. Heads up high like the Divine herself blessed their bogroll."

Solana suppressed a smile at Cara's colourful language. "Mages holding their heads up high, fancy that."

"Yeah. Look, I'm all for mage rights. Clearly." She held out her arms for emphasis. "But I get a little nervous when mages start getting that _particular_ look. Like the rest of them is dirt, you know? That leads to fireworks. Not the good kind. I don't want dad to get caught in the middle of it. But the old geyser won't leave."

"Oy!" Gideon gave her a severe look, but his mouth twitched. To Solana, he said, "This is my home. There's always something going on with the Mages and Templars. When she saw your husband, she thought to come and convince me to leave before -"

"And since he won't go, I have no choice but to help you sort all of this out. You can do that, right?"

Solana truly hoped she could.

Solana wanted nothing more than to get back to Cullen and tell him everything that had happened, but Gideon insisted she get supplies for her journey - even after she explained she was trying to travel light. There were still people hanging around his store, no doubt hoping for gossip, and when Gideon was unsuccessful in convincing her to take his charity, they led her outside and took her from stall to stall, offering her everything from Royale Sea Silk scarves to rare herbs. She accepted a pair of boots from a cobbler, insisting she'd return to pay for them, and was about to finally take her leave when some of the baker's latest offerings caught her eye. There, in between the lemon tart and the fresh scones, was a blackberry pie.

She remembered Cullen's childlike delight when they'd found that blackberry bush in Haven. So uncharacteristic, and she hadn't seen such happiness cross his features in ages. Perhaps this purchase would wrest a rare smile from him.

The baker wrapped it in clean cloth so she could put it in her pack, and then she at last managed to slip away from the square while two other storekeepers were arguing over which would show her their wares first.

Alone in a small alleyway between two buildings, Solana took a moment to sit on an old barrel and examine her leg. It wouldn't do for Cullen to see she'd been injured again, and the bandage was conspicuous. She unwound it carefully, taking note of exactly how it was applied in case she had no choice but to re-apply it.

Her robes were torn - of course. And there was a large section missing from her stocking around where the wound had been. Thankfully, however, the skin was smooth. There was a small red mark that would no doubt heal within the next few hours. The spellwork was almost as fine as Wynne's.

She could still hear the sound of the square, the stall owners arguing, dogs barking, children playing. They sounded so close, which is probably why she wasn't paying better attention to the fact she was alone. A movement in a doorway opposite startled her. She could just make out a figure standing watching her. She jerked her hand to her staff as Nathaniel moved slowly into the light. He was holding up his hands in front of him, where she might see them.

"Five," he said.

"What?"

"Times I've had the opportunity to kill you and haven't." He cocked his head. "I thought I might open with that."

* * *

 _A/N I hate writing action scenes so huge thanks go to TheWinterWren and Morgalahan for helping me out with this one, in addition to my other two lovely betas._

 _Cara (in name, appearance and profession at least) is a cameo from my beta, Sulahn's, original fiction story The Physician's Apprentice which is due out soon. The main character is a healer who has to hide that she's a woman in a steampunk-influenced domed society suffering from a plague outbreak. I highly recommend checking it out!_


	92. A rogue and a thief

"I'm not here to kill you, I'm here to talk." Nathaniel started to lower his hands, but Solana waved her staff at him and he kept them where they were.

"So speak."

"I have a proposal."

"I'm not interested."

"You've not heard what it is."

She quirked an eyebrow and he smiled, showing no teeth. "I propose we set aside our differences and work together. We both want the same thing."

"No, we don't want the same thing. You want me dead."

"If I truly wished you dead, you'd be dead. I could have laced that arrow with anything." He shifted further into the light, still holding up his hands. She noticed that the one was burned, where she'd caught him during the duel. "Did it ever occur to you that I was particularly bad at killing you for someone who supposedly had all those famous Grey Warden abilities?"

"Being incompetent is hardly a defense."

He chuckled darkly. "Now you sound like my father."

She narrowed her eyes and he must have seen that she was not amused because he sighed.

"Look, truth is, when I picked up your trail I _did_ wish you dead. When I shot you, I meant to kill you. But at the very last instant, I could not do it. I jerked my arm."

"And then you tried to suffocate me."

"I was angry. I read the situation incorrectly. But I could not bring myself to slit your throat. Watched you sleep for a while, though. Tossing and turning, what does the Hero dream I wonder-"

"And this duel?"

"I thought you might have figured that out yourself. Nothing brings people together like a shared enemy."

He was right. The way the villagers had treated her after she defeated him, she could have asked for anything. "It was all a show," she said slowly.

"Absolutely. Although at one point I thought you might honestly kill me." He gestured with his burnt hand. "Don't suppose you have some salve?"

Clattering armour the other end of the alley interrupted the conversation. Cullen stumbled into view.

"Solana!" He came towards them, gasping for breath. When he spotted just who she was talking to, he drew his sword. He was red-faced and wet with sweat, but he pointed his weapon at Nathaniel's stomach with a steady hand. "You! You dare approach her again!"

She may not have required his protection, but Solana flushed with warmth at him coming to her defense like this.

"You can lower your weapon," Nathaniel said. "I do not intend to harm your wife."

"You don't honestly expect me to believe that?"

Nathaniel's eyes darted to Solana as if asking for her confirmation. "We were merely talking."

She tucked her staff away. "Nathaniel wishes to travel with us."

"Is that so?" Cullen practically growled.

"Yes, that is so." If he was affected by Cullen's tone, Nathaniel didn't show it. "We are all after the same thing. We might pool our resources."

"What resources?"

"Well." Nathaniel glanced at Solana again. "You now have the location of the Wardens. And I have considerable knowledge of the forest, and I carry the Taint. Do I need to explain what that means?"

The last was directed specifically at Solana. He was questioning her legitimacy as a Warden again. While her first instinct was to defend herself, there were more important matters at hand. "You mean you'll be able to sense the Wardens before we approach them."

He nodded. That certainly would be useful, and it would mean avoiding any further surprises like they'd had from the darkspawn.

Cullen scowled. "Absolutely not."

"There are two of you and one of me. If you do not trust me, by all means set a watch. That should not present too much of a challenge given that you already sleep in shifts."

The fact that he'd been watching them sleep sent a chill through Solana, but she understood what he was doing. He was pointing out how much opportunity he'd already had to kill her if he wanted to.

"Would you come along as a prisoner?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Not quite what I had in mind. But if it puts you at ease to bind me, so be it. I don't much care how I get to the Wardens, so long as I do."

Cullen looked to Solana, the familiar exasperation in the slant of his eyebrows. "You aren't honestly considering this?"

She was. But she couldn't bring herself to say it. He was exhausted, dishevelled and possibly ill, but he'd come and found her, no doubt as soon as he'd heard about the duel. And here he was standing ready to defend her with the very last of his strength. To invite Nathaniel along would be to throw that back in his face. Echoes of an old argument came back to her.

 _"If I truly keep trying to kill myself, how come I'm still here?"_

 _"Because I keep getting in your way."_

She didn't want him to feel that way.

"You heard what Cullen said. Absolutely not."

Nathaniel shook his head. "You're making a mistake."

"I believe the watch is looking for you." Solana nodded at Cullen, and he prodded Nathaniel with the tip of his blade.

The Warden was surprisingly cooperative. He let them lead him back into the square, where the villagers stopped and stared and a few even cheered.

They handed him into the custody of the village watch, such as it was. The gaol was nothing but a stone building with bars across the door, but it should keep him. At least for now.

"We should move on as soon as-" Solana started to say as they walked away from the building, but Cullen pulled her around to face him.

His muscles were tensed and she braced herself for his admonishment. She'd put herself in danger yet again.

"Are you all right?" he asked instead.

He held her shoulders and stared into her face. The intensity of that gaze… it made her head light. She wasn't sure how to answer. Did she tell him about the arrow and the poison? He still looked a little peaked, although not as bad as earlier. She reached up to touch the pink spot on one of his cheeks. Fever?

"Are _you_ all right? Perhaps we should stay the night?"

Only when her fingertips brushed his skin did she realise how intimate the gesture was. He closed his eyes, but he didn't flinch from her touch.

"No, we should continue. Although, perhaps, supplies? "

Going on what she'd experienced thus far, that would delay them even more than a rest at the inn, and she wouldn't put it past some of the stall owners to follow her and Cullen right out of the village trying to convince them to purchase wares. She shook her head. A quiet escape was preferable.

"We have supplies enough. I picked up some things earlier."

"Very well."

They moved quietly along the edge of the village and slipped away into the forest.

* * *

Celeste swallowed down her nerves and closed the door carefully behind her. With a flick of her wrists, she lit the lamps.

"This is it?" Samson asked.

He wandered further into the room that had once been Fiona's research laboratory, looking around with interest. The shelves were still lined with dusty books, but the vials were gone. As was the collection of Tevinter books and scrolls that Fiona had brought to Skyhold with her. Now dust gathered thick on the desk and spiderwebs glinted in the dim light.

"It's spooky, I'll give it that." Samson turned to Celeste and leaned back against the desk. He smiled.

She'd expected him to be disgusted as Hawke had been, or as incredulous as Cullen. This was the room where Fiona had concocted the potions she'd used to torture him, her failed blight cures.

Celeste had felt obligated to bring him here, to show him, but now he kept his eyes locked firmly on her. "Not a bad spot for a rendezvous."

A flush crept up to her cheeks. She wasn't used to being alone with him. Samson was still concerned about people targeting her if they learned of their involvement, so they'd hardly seen each other in public either since his confession.

"I… I didn't bring you here for… I mean…" she stammered. She drew a breath to steady herself, although she couldn't look at him as she continued. "I'm not even sure what we'd do if I had. What do lovers do when they're not touching?"

"Lovers?" He pressed off the desk and started towards her. His movements were slow and careful. "I like the sound of that."

"But I... " Her heart beat so rapidly, she could hear it in her ears.

He stopped and held up his hands in front of him. "I'm not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I promised, didn't I?"

She nodded.

"May I hold your hand?"

The question surprised her and she saw doubt chase across his features in reaction. Her stomach tightened as she gingerly offered it to him.

His rough soldier's fingers entwined with hers. The pad of his thumb stroked across the back of her hand, sending shivers up her arm.

"This alright?" he asked, voice low and soft.

Her face was hot. "What you must think of me. I'm twenty eight years of age and holding hands is all..."

"Shh," he said. "None of that. This is good." He laughed softly, looking down at their interlocked fingers. "You're younger than I thought. I'm quite a bit older than you."

"I don't care about that."

"You could do far better. You don't need to settle-"

"-I'm not."

He breathed out and drew her hand up to his face, nuzzling into her palm. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"This," he said. "Everything."

 _Everything?_ It was hardly anything at all. They were little more than friends in practice, even if she had acknowledged the existence of deeper feelings. She wasn't sure what to do with herself. She felt out of place in her own skin.

Samson lifted his gaze to hers. There was a strange look in his eyes and she didn't know how to interpret it. Fear, perhaps? She was about to reassure him when he spoke.

"Would you come somewhere with me, if I asked you to?"

"Somewhere?"

"Yeah. Somewhere not here. Not Skyhold."

Her heart started thumping again, and this time the sensation was less pleasant. "I thought you weren't supposed to leave Skyhold."

"I'm not."

"Raleigh, don't do this."

He said nothing. His expression revealed nothing.

"Why now? I thought you were happy?" She tried not to let the hurt leak into her voice, but was entirely unsuccessful.

"I am. Happier than I've ever been. Far more than I deserve." He dropped her hand and paced away. He leaned against one of the old bookshelves and his hair fell forward to obscure his face. "You see, there's this… it don't feel right to be happy here. Not when… but you're right. Of course you're right. It was wrong of me to even ask."

She approached him carefully and rested a hand on his arm. "Leave the past in the past, Raleigh. You've got everything here you need to start a new life. Don't throw it all away."

"Yeah," he mumbled. She wished he sounded more certain.

* * *

The map to the Grey Wardens was scrawled hastily with some sort of charcoal crayon and the lines smudged whenever Solana touched them, but it beat trying to follow the stars in the forest. The last time she'd actually been able to see the sky, she had been able to confirm that they were near to their destination but not much else. It was like Leliana had gotten hold of half of a message.

Now they had the other half, even if it did keep threatening to rub off on her hands.

Cullen had been quiet since the village, but he didn't seem to be sickly. The brief rest must have helped, and it certainly should have at the price. When he'd given the purse back to her, she'd found it considerably lighter. She'd raised her eyebrows at him in query, and he'd shrugged and muttered something about Orlesian inns.

She had a feeling they'd taken advantage upon hearing his Fereldan accent and he hadn't thought to haggle. If that was the case, she could see why he didn't want to talk more of it. No matter. It was unlikely they'd need coin where they were going.

The map led them away from the river, via a series of landmarks so subtle you wouldn't have noticed them had you not been looking for them. They put Solana's trick with the locks of hair to shame. The first of these was a wicker weft, like those found in the Witchwood, dangling from between two branches. A vague path led through a tangle of trees, and then a bright red sprig of embrium signalled a turn to the right.

"Do you feel like we're being watched?" Cullen asked after this turn, eyes roving.

Solana rolled her shoulders, trying to ignore the tingling between the blades. "Maybe we should leave the route to camp for the night?"

He nodded, pressing his lips together, brow furrowed.

They weaved between the trees, in an unpredictable pattern that Solana was sure to note down so they'd find their way back. The light was beginning to fade, streaking orange through the branches, when they came to a small glade and Cullen suggested they make camp. So Solana tucked the map safely in the pack so she could help him set up.

She left him building the fire while she put up the tents. She'd just finished securing his when she heard him grunt.

She found him kneeling by her pack, digging through it. "I thought you said you bought supplies?" At his heels was the blackberry pie, hastily tossed aside, still half wrapped in cloth. "There isn't anything here, Solana! You bought a cake? Is that what you meant by supplies? How are we supposed to live off cake?"

Her heart kicked and started beating rapidly. She'd been looking forward to presenting it to him, now her mind struggled to make sense of his reaction. Before she'd found words to respond, he'd clambered to his feet and rounded on her.

"You have done a lot of ridiculous things this trip but this-" He waved at the discarded pie.

Humour sprung to the surface of her thoughts, like a barrier snapping into place around her heart. "Takes the cake?" she suggested.

He growled at her, an ugly sneer across his mouth, cheeks bright red with rage. "Maker's breath, we're in the middle of the forest, there's nothing around for miles expect our enemy. This is serious. Can you not be serious?"

Heat clawed up her neck. "We're in a forest-"

"-I am well aware." He turned around, clutching at his hair. "We'll have to go back to the village. Waste another day's travel. How could you do this?"

She was trying to remain unaffected, and failing. Tears pricked her eyes. "It was a gift," she managed. "I thought you'd like it."

"Like it?" He raised his voice. "Why in the Void would I like it?"

She didn't trust herself to respond without falling apart, so she turned heel and stalked into her tent.

* * *

Cullen heaved in air and let himself fall to his knees in the dirt. He scrubbed at his face, willing his speeding heart to calm. Was he overreacting? She _had_ assured him she had bought supplies. He'd trusted her. He hadn't checked himself. He should have checked. He had himself to blame for that. Still, she was the Hero, she kept _reminding_ him she was the Hero. She surely hadn't survived a year on the road on _cake_?

But he shouldn't have lost his temper. That had accomplished nothing. He had managed to secure a single vial of lyrium from a dwarf in the village, but the tiny dose he'd taken had only been enough to take the edge off his withdrawal. His emotions were still so very close to the surface. He was tempted to take more to steady himself, but he needed to make it last as long as possible. Plus, he couldn't risk Solana finding him in the process - he'd only just managed to hide the leather pouch with the vial and apparatus at the bottom of the pack before she'd started setting up his tent. A close enough call.

He drew another steadying breath and reached for the offending cake instead, intending to pack it away again. He grabbed it with too much force, and it crumbled apart, revealing the centre.

Not a cake. A pie. And in the centre - the smell hit him full in the face, whisking him back instantly to childhood, to a table surrounded by people who loved him - blackberries.

 _It was a gift. I thought you'd like it._

Oh, Maker.

He could do nothing but stare at it, lying there. _Idiot. Royal fool._ It wasn't just a food he liked, it was a symbol, representing _them_ , calling to mind those days in Haven, and the mementos she'd left for him when they'd been parted. And even that first currant bun. What had it meant to her? What was it supposed to signify? A possible future? What had she planned to say when she delivered it to him? He'd never know.

He scrambled to his feet and propelled himself to her tent. He plunged through the entrance, not even thinking to stop long enough to ask entry.

She was pressed up against the back of the tent with her knees drawn to her chest.

"Blackberries," he panted. "A gift. Solana, I'm sorry. I didn't realise. I thought… this wasn't what you meant by supplies?"

She shook her head.

He dropped his face into his hands.

"Cullen, I didn't buy much food," she admitted in a small voice. "We're in a forest. During the Bl- I mean I thought maybe we could hunt. It would save us having to carry so much."

He noticed how she'd sidestepped talking about the Blight. No doubt concerned about his jealousy. He couldn't meet her gaze. "I'm not much of a hunter I'm afraid."

"I am." She shifted a little closer. "It will be alright. We're not going to starve to death. You don't have to be afraid."

So that's what she thought this was? That's how she justified his awful behaviour? Fear? He wanted to laugh, but he doubted he could dredge laughter up even if he was truly amused.

"I apologise for how I've been acting. I realise I've been…" He trailed off, searching for a word that adequately encompassed it.

"An arse?" she supplied.

He glanced up at her then, to see that familiar little half smile on her pink lips. He returned the expression, as best he could.

She reached forward and took his hand - did she notice how clammy he was? - and squeezed it. Her touch had a magic all its own. When her skin was against his, it felt like nothing could go wrong, like he wasn't such a complete failure, like he wasn't doomed by his own foolish actions. Like he wasn't alone. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed it. He wanted to close his eyes and lose himself in it.

"Pie for dinner?" she asked.

"You don't like berries."

She shrugged. "I can always eat the crust."

As he exited the tent, the first sign that anything was amiss was that the pack was tipped on its side, the contents strewn about. Had he done that?

But as he packed it up again, he noticed one vital item missing.

The map was gone.


	93. All is undone

_Dear Hawke,_

 _So here's what I know and I'm afraid it's not very good._

 _Oh, Anders isn't dead though. Well, I don't think he is. At least he may only be dead in the metaphorical sense. As in Justice is now using his body. How does that even work?_

 _Anyhoo, I've been tracking that Grey Warden who told me he was dead. He's been following some trail of missing Wardens. (I thought that might interest you). I think the poor fool might be a few quarts short of a gallon, though. He attacked the Hero of Ferelden some nights ago and then followed her and her Templar to a village where he practically begged her to let him join their mission to stop Anders. So, on the one hand, everyone seems to agree Anders is alive after all. On the other hand, if he is alive, he has the Hero of Ferelden after him._

 _And uh... about her Templar. You remember that Knight Captain Cullen from Kirkwall, don't you? He was the one with his head up Meridith's arse. Seems he's working with the Hero to track Anders. I'm sure he's champing at the bit to get revenge for the chantry._

 _Soo... How fast can you get to Orlais?_

 _Admiral Isabella_

 _P.S. Cost me a fortune to ensure this reached you tonight. I trust this more than makes up for that business with the arishok._

 _P.P.S. Seems Anders is holed up in some ruins near the source of the Arlesans. You're welcome._

* * *

Varric had seen his fair share of bar fights, and he knew that the best place to be during them was outside the bar in question. The second best place was on a stool on a table at the edge of the room, where he could get a good view.

He wasn't sure what had started this one. Usually there was a kind of electricity in the air before a brawl. Not this time. This time it had erupted out of nowhere.

He peered at the heaving crowd from atop his stool, taking mental notes and wondering if anyone was placing bets on a victor yet or whether he should start the pool. Although he couldn't actually see the fight. He could see a ring of people pressed together and some kind of scuffle in the middle. And he could _hear_ shouting. Lots of shouting.

Cabot's voice boomed slightly louder than the others, and Varric saw he'd taken refuge on his own bar. He was red in the face, yelling at the centre of the chaos. A man launched himself out of said chaos - like a shark jumping at a chunk of meat - and seemed to make a go for Cabot.

 _Oh shit._

It was Hawke.

"Did you know?" Hawke yelled, muscles straining as he tried to get at the bewildered barkeep, held back by two other men. "You know everything that happens here. Did you know about this?"

Varric scrambled down from his stool and elbowed his way towards his friend. It was like swimming upstream.

"Hawke!" Varric called, when he was close enough. "What in the-"

Hawke rounded on _him_. Lightning shot up the arms of the men restraining him. They screamed, letting go, and six feet of sparking, raging, mage stalked towards Varric.

"You! You knew, didn't you? Is that why you came back?"

Varric backed away, throwing furniture between him and Hawke. "What in the Void are you talking about Hawke?"

"Anders! You knew where he was! You knew the whole time!"

There was more noise at the door, authoritative voices that must have been the soldiers arriving. But Varric didn't dare turn to look.

"Hawke, will you calm down? Listen to yourself!"

Hawke waved a piece of parchment in Varric's direction. "They're going to kill him! Or he's going to kill them! Was it you? Did you send them? Did you send my cousin to kill my love?"

 _Ah. Well, shit._

A circle of space had cleared in the crowd around them. Even those who had been fighting before seemed to be watching this development.

Varric held up his hands in front of him. "Now Hawke…"

Hawke lurched at him, but something snagged him back. He rounded, fist formed, ready to swing a punch at that something. But it - which turned out to be Knight-Captain Rylen - grabbed his wrist, stopping the punch before it landed.

"Hawke..." he said, gently.

"Did you know?" Hawke demanded.

"Did I know what?" he asked, levelly. Only the slight vibration in his arms showed the strength it was taking to hold Hawke still. None of it reflected in his lilting voice.

"Of course you knew. You came in to replace Cullen. Of course you knew where he was going. Is that why you approached me? Is that why you-"

"Hawke," Rylen snapped. And it was the first time Varric had ever heard that steel in his voice. "Let's take this outside, shall we?"

It looked like Hawke was going to challenge him. Then his face fell, and he collapsed forward. Rylen wrapped his arms around him and led him out.

It took a few minutes before the normal hum of the tavern re-established itself. Varric wasn't sure whether he should follow, make sure Hawke was okay.

He shivered. The way Hawke had looked at him… it would probably be safer to check on him in the morning. He went to the bar and ordered a large drink. A very large one.

* * *

Hawke found himself in Cullen's office, seated behind the desk, holding a mug of water. The roaring in his ears had dulled a little, but the crumpled letter in his hands brought it back again. The hand holding the mug shook.

"You knew," he said again, to Rylen who was standing across from him. "That's why you fucked me. As a distraction. So I didn't go after them."

"You're drunk," Rylen said.

"No. I'm not."

Rylen slammed his hands onto the desk and leaned over it, at once threatening. "You are drunk, or else I will have to put you in the dungeon."

Hawke pushed himself to standing. "Why?"

"Do you even remember shocking those men down in the bar?"

Shocking? Vaguely he remembered unwelcome hands on him. Is that how he'd gotten rid of them?

"If you're losing control of your magic while sober, we have an even bigger problem. So, you are drunk."

"Speaks the Templar."

Rylen glared at him. "Perhaps you _should_ be alone for a time."

"You're going to lock me up?" Hawke came around the desk, heart racing, anger simmering. "I dare you to try."

Rylen shook his head. "What is this about, Hawke?"

"I know. I found out."

"What is it you found out?"

Hawke threw the crumpled letter at him. Rylen sighed as he stooped to pick it up. He smoothed it out on the desk. His mouth moved as he read it. Then his eyes met Hawke's.

"I see."

"So?" Hawke folded his arms. "Do you deny it now?"

"Deny what, Hawke?" Rylen sounded tired.

"Deny that you were involved in this! You said Cullen had to leave on assignment. Did you know his assignment was to kill Anders?"

"No, I did not."

"You might as well tell me the truth."

"The truth is that I was called back when Cullen left the Inquisition after that incident with Solana and the baby. Lady Cassandra asked me to stay on. I did not know the details of his current mission."

Hawke rubbed his arms, he suddenly felt cold. "Why did you approach me, then?"

Rylen sighed again and he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "This is ridiculous, and you are drunk. You're hurting. You want me to fight you. I'm not going to." He tilted his head towards the door. "Come along. I'll take you back to your quarters."

"Oh, I need a Templar escort, do I?"

Hawke saw the words hit home, saw the hurt in Rylen's eyes. But he seized Hawke's arm and dragged him out the door.

"Let go of me!" Hawke tried to pull free as Rylen marched him along the ramparts to the visitor quarters. "I'm perfectly capable of walking myself."

Rylen didn't even appear to hear him. He kept his grip firm until they reached the quarters.

The baby was crying. The Maker-foresaken baby was crying.

 _Solana…_

A fist of regret drove itself into Hawke's chest and he almost choked. _Maker, what if he kills her… what if Justice kills her? What if he kills them both? And the way I left things with her… but what if she kills him?_

He tried to pull free of Rylen again, only half aware that he was letting off a litany of curses directed at Templars in general and Rylen in particular. When Rylen's strong arms held him pressed against his door, he gave up struggling and sobbed. "I have to go to him. I have to help him. He doesn't stand a chance against both of them. I have to warn him."

Rylen somehow got the door open. The familiar smell of home hit Hawke. Was that what this was now? And memories of Anders, those first weeks when he'd found Hawke here. His beautiful expressive eyes begging for forgiveness, for love. If Hawke had been better at answering those pleas, would it have come to this?

He wasn't sure how much he was thinking and how much he was saying out loud as Rylen manhandled him inside.

And then the door was closing. Rylen was on the other side. Hawke was on the bed and he fell backwards, letting despair and fear claim him completely.

* * *

Helen slammed a hand down on the kitchen counter, sending a spray of flour up into the sunlight that was filtering through the window next to her. "And then he said, did you send my cousin to kill my lover? And the Knight-Captain is standing right there, he is. You should have seen the look on his face. My _lover_."

Marsha whistled through her teeth and shook her head. "And what did he do then?"

"Only thing he could do - he stopped the fight and bundled Hawke out of the place. Hawke was still raving as they left."

Celeste looked up from her work briefly to eye Marsha, who was folding pastries beside her. "You really shouldn't encourage her," she whispered. "She's probably making half of it up."

Unfortunately, Helen, who was prone to gossip, heard Celeste and put her hands on her hips. "I am not. You can ask anybody who was there at the tavern last night."

Marsha nodded. "It's true, I heard it from Fred the stable boy this morning when I went to get milk. Apparently Hawke received a letter at the tavern last night and started a brawl. You're friends with his cousin, aren't you? Do you think she's really hunting Anders?"

Celeste chewed on her lip. Was Anders 'Blondie'? Maker, did that mean that it was Anders who had been trying to lure her to Orlais? Anders was against the Chantry. Everyone knew that. It sounded obvious that it would be Anders… but that voice, that presence, hadn't _felt_ like Anders. Maybe he was just good at masking his identity? If it _was_ him… did that mean Leliana had sent Solana to kill him? Using _her_ map?

"No," she said out loud. "Solana and Anders are friends. She wouldn't kill him. Maybe she's gone to find him to bring him back."

 _She probably thinks she can talk sense into him because of their friendship, stop him from attacking the Chantry. Oh, Solana. Why do you always have to try be the hero?_

"Do you think Hawke will go after them?" Marsha asked.

Celeste shrugged.

"Imagine having both the Hero and the Champion after you. I wouldn't want to be Anders." Marsha chuckled.

"I wouldn't want to be Knight-Captain Rylen, caught in the middle of all this," Helen added. 

* * *

Hawke turned over. His mouth tasted like pickled sand. For a blissful few moments his world was nothing but a sour headache. Then he remembered. He shot up.

Anders. He had to get to Anders before…

Someone pounded on the door. Was that what had woken him? He ignored it, knowing it was no one he wanted to speak to. He grabbed a pack from against the wall and began shoving clothes into it, but the insistent banging reverberated in his aching head.

"Shut up!" he yelled.

"Hawke!" It was Varric. Shit, Varric. He'd nearly attacked Varric.

Hawke pressed his fingers to his painful eyeballs, pausing for a moment in his packing. "The door's open."

Rylen had left it unlocked the night before.

 _Rylen…_

Hawke pushed the thought of him from his mind and resumed packing as Varric came inside.

There was silence for a moment, then Varric said quietly, "I was going to ask how you're doing but-"

"How do you think I'm doing? I'm sorry, I don't have time to talk. I have to get to Anders. I have to stop him - or protect him. Or-"

Varric took his arm, halting it in its mission to shove clothing into the pack as fast as possible. "Hawke… Solana and Cullen left over a week ago."

As much as Hawke riled against the idea that he was already too late, the thought did give him pause. He hung his head, trying to will his heart to stop pounding so hard. "Tell me truthfully: did you know?"

"It's more complicated than that."

"So you did know."

"Are you going to punch me if I answer?"

Hawke finally looked at him. Varric's eyes were wide and sad, his chin tucked in that way he had when he was truly ashamed. It was all the answer Hawke needed. He wrenched his arm free and began digging in his drawer again. His fingers brushed the oil bottle and guilt stabbed him in the gut. Twofold guilt. Guilt for betraying Anders, guilt for hurting Rylen. He was a mess. Who was he to tell Solana to be careful of hurting people when he wrecked everything he touched?

Varric breathed out through his nostrils and stepped back to sit on the bed. "Here's what happened. The truth. I got Cullen's letter about the phylacteries and it worried me because I had heard that mages had been disappearing. I get here and the Nightingale tells me Wardens are missing - again - and she and Cullen have tracked it to Anders. Those three things together? Not good. I didn't intend to send your cuz after him. But Nightingale thought it was a better bet than making a military strike. Maybe Solana can talk him down, convince him there's another way."

"And you didn't think I might be interested?" Hawke turned to Varric. "After _everything_ we've been through together? You couldn't do me the courtesy of telling me?"

"I would have. If it was anything else. But Hawke… you don't think _sense_ when it comes to Anders. You remember when we were in the Vimmark mountains? And Corypheus took control of Anders? You remember when he tried to kill us?"

 _My love, please… help me._

"He didn't want to kill us. That was Corypheus. What's your point?"

"My point is that you were willing to let all of us die."

"I wasn't," Hawke said through gritted teeth. But he remembered the scene - wild magic shooting from the helpless mage as he struggled under the magister's control. Ducking behind a rock, refusing to strike back, refusing to let anyone else strike back. Carver had eventually ignored that order, punching Anders in the face hard enough that he lost consciousness.

"Anders is my responsibility," Hawke added, only realising after the words left his mouth that he was echoing what he'd said to Trevelyan about Corypheus.

Varric gave him a knowing look as he clambered to his feet again. "If you want to go running after Blondie again, I'm not going to stop you. It's your life, Hawke. But I'm your friend. Or at least I was last I checked. And as your friend I need to tell you that if you have a responsibility to anyone right now, it's not Anders."

"Don't give me that. The Inquisition doesn't need me. It has more heroes than it knows what to do with."

Varric shook his head. "I wasn't talking about the Inquisition, Hawke."

It took him a good few seconds of staring at Varric's imploring face to work out what he meant. "Rylen."

"You said some harsh things last night. And that's just the bits that I heard."

Hawke's mouth was suddenly sand again. "Rylen will be fine. He knows where things stand with me." _He knows I'm complicated, I'm a mess._ "He knows things weren't serious."

"Really? Because he's been walking around looking like someone punched him in the stomach. Don't throw a good thing away, Hawke. Go speak to him."

 _Shit_. There was that guilt again, coiling around Hawke's heart and squeezing. The very last thing he wanted to do was face the man after the things he'd said.

"There isn't time. Isabella said that they hadn't found Anders yet. If I hurry…"

Varric just looked at him.

* * *

Hawke rapped gently on the door, even though it was open and he could see Rylen sitting at his desk inside.

Rylen looked up at the sound, his expression inscrutable.

"Have a minute?" Hawke asked. A wave of nausea washed over him. He could feel his heartbeat drumming through him like a shudder.

Rylen gave him a sad smile as he rose from his desk. He walked past Hawke to press the door closed. He took a moment, leaning against it, with his head bowed, before he straightened.

"I'm sorry for what I said last night," Hawke said.

"I know you are."

"I was drunk and angry. I didn't know what I was saying."

"I know." Rylen turned around. Once again, his expression was difficult to read. It seemed to be perfectly schooled. "We have something of a problem here, I'm afraid. It's my fault. I should have said something when it first started developing."

Hawke's first thought was something political, something to do with Cullen and Anders. But the way Rylen was looking at him… his mind moved immediately to lyrium. Didn't long term use affect Templars? "You're not sick?"

The one corner of his mouth twitched. "Well, heartsick, maybe."

He moved away again, back to the desk where he leaned in silence. Hawke had some inkling what was coming. The pounding of his pulse was now so loud in his ears that he almost didn't hear it when Rylen said it.

"I'm in love with you, Hawke." He spoke to the desk. But then he seemed to find some well of courage within him, and he looked up at Hawke with a self-deprecating smile and gave a little shrug. "I'm sorry. I knew going in that this was complicated. We agreed to keep things casual. You're going through so much… you don't have to say it. I know you're not in the right place now for this."

Hawke stood paralysed. A deluge of emotions fighting for dominance within him. This man - this amazing man who wasn't broken, who wasn't desperate - wanted him. Loved him. Why? What did Hawke have to offer someone like him? It was a mistake. It had to be a mistake. Rylen could have anyone. Why did he want Hawke? Why did he want to bash his heart against someone who ruined everything and everyone who came close? Maybe he'd got the wrong impression. Maybe it was Varric's book. _I never should have recommended he read it._

Rylen let out a shaky breath, looking down at the table again. "I think it's best if we don't see each other for a while. I'm sorry."

 _Wait, what?_

"I need some space to get over this…" He waved a hand. "Problem."

Loving him was a problem? Loving him _was_ a problem. Rylen was intelligent enough to know that. Hawke had managed to break his heart without even knowing he _had_ his heart. A new record, this.

The door slammed open and Hawke spun towards the intruder, a Winter's Grasp spell already forming in his palm. How dare the-

Celeste stood panting in the doorway. "Knight-Captain, have you seen Raleigh?"

Rylen straightened, at once all business. "No. Samson hasn't reported in yet."

Celeste ran her fingers through her hair. "Alright. Well. I'm sure it's fine."

"What's going on?" Rylen crossed the room to her.

"He wasn't at breakfast. We agreed to meet. I looked for him in all the usual places but we must have just missed each other. He can't have left, could he?"

"Left?" Rylen narrowed his eyes.

Celeste glanced at Hawke. She was bright red. She must have run the length and breadth of the castle looking for the man.

"Talk to me, Celeste."

"It's nothing bad," she said quickly. "I'm sure of it."

"Did he mention to you that he intended to leave?" Rylen advanced towards her.

As he had transformed into the Templar commander, she'd transformed into the helpless mage. She backed away from him, still struggling for breath. Small as a mouse cornered by a cat. She swallowed. "He said it was personal. I told him not to go."

 _Oh, shit._


	94. Left behind

Cullen's office was a hub of activity. Men came in and out all the doors, seemingly at the same time. Celeste hung back, watching as Rylen had his men searched every part of Skyhold. And as they reported back that there was no sign of Samson, Celeste's stomach started to ache. Had she done the wrong thing coming to the Knight-Captain?

Of course she had.

But she was desperate and _angry_.

 _How could he do this?_

She kept hoping that it was all a mistake, that Raleigh would be escorted back to the office from some nook where he'd fallen asleep or something and Rylen would give him a stern talking to and that would be that.

It became increasingly clear that that wouldn't be the case. By now he should have at least heard that people were looking for him. How long had he been gone? How _far_ had he gone?

"He didn't say anything about where he might go?" Hawke asked quietly next to her. She jumped at the sound of his voice. She'd forgotten he was still there.

His eyes were circled by dark rings and he looked positively gaunt. If the stories of what had happened the night before were to be believed, she knew why. She felt a strange kinship with the Champion in that moment, even though she knew he probably hated her after he'd discovered her in the laboratory.

"He asked if I'd go with him. Naturally, I refused. I should have asked for more details. Why would he do this? Why now?"

"Self-sabotage."

Hawke provided the answer with such authority that Celeste turned her full attention to him. Had Hawke known Raleigh better in Kirkwall than he'd let on?

Hawke shrugged under her gaze. "He was happy, here with you and the kid. He had to find some way to ruin it before someone else did."

"Has he done this before?" she asked. Maybe there was another woman, someone he'd never told her about. Maybe he'd gone to make things right with her. It was ridiculous how Celeste tasted bitter jealousy at the very thought of it.

"Not that I know of." Hawke's eyes rested on Rylen, who had a map out and was jabbing his finger at it while some of the men gathered around the desk. Maybe Hawke wasn't talking about Samson after all.

"I'm sorry about Anders," she said, taking a risk, hoping Hawke didn't bring up the experiments, didn't accuse her of corrupting him.

"That didn't take long. I suppose all of Skyhold knows now?"

"You know how it is. People haven't had anything juicy to discuss since Solana…" She trailed off, realising that wasn't a good subject either.

"Juicy, is it?"

This wasn't going well. She decided to cut her losses. "Sorry."

"Alright," Rylen said, louder than he had been speaking so that everyone in the room could hear. "You have your orders. Squadron A, get down to the stables now. You leave in ten. Squadron B-"

"You're conducting a manhunt?" Celeste interrupted, sudden fear driving the words from her mouth.

Rylen narrowed his eyes at her. "I suppose you have another suggestion?"

She looked at the men gathered. Cullen's men. Cullen's men just like the two who had tried to murder Raleigh before. If they found him, was there any chance they'd bring him back alive?

"No," she said to Rylen. "I want to go with them."

His shoulders relaxed a little. "I realise you wish to help, but it's best you stay here. You can let us know if he tries to contact you."

"I'm useful. I'm a powerful mage."

"This is hardly about your skills. You're too close to this. Stay here with your boy. I promise I will let you know when we find him."

She wanted to say more, to argue more, but Rylen turned his attention to his men and dismissed them.

"Is there anything I can do?" Hawke asked Rylen as the soldiers emptied out of the office.

Rylen shook his head. "Don't you have your own mission to prepare for?"

Something passed between the two of them. Hawke's hands fisted and unfisted, but he didn't say anything. Rylen turned away and busied himself with some paperwork.

As if taking a cue, Hawke turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

"You should go find Ren," Rylen said softly now that they were alone. "No doubt he will have noticed us looking for Samson. No doubt he's quite frightened by all of this."

Ren... How could she possibly tell him?

When Celeste didn't find Ren playing with the other children near the stables, her pulse started to race. She knew she was being unreasonable. Raleigh would definitely not take Ren with him. Still, memories of that day in the rain would not leave her, and of the way Ren looked at Raleigh.

Raleigh would not take him, but he might follow.

She searched Skyhold with increasing urgency, chest growing tighter and tighter with every room she visited that was absent of her son.

After completing a search of all the usual places, she crossed the market to check the barn once more. Something bounced off her ankle. She thought nothing of it until something else hit her leg a little higher up, and then her thigh. She looked down to find a scattering of small stones.

Someone had been throwing them at her. But from where? In the press of the market she could make out little. Then her eyes landed on a small figure up on the battlements, black against the bright blue sky. It waved to her.

 _Ren?_

She gathered her skirts and hurried across the bailey to the stairs to the ramparts.

At first she didn't see anyone, then Ren jumped off one of the merlons, startling her.

"Sorry to scare you," he said, in the voice of a boy much older. He had a grave look on his face. "I needed to talk to you alone."

The look on his face showed a maturity she hadn't seen from him before. She was caught between wanting to shake him and hug him. "What's happened?"

He passed her a folded parchment. The only sign that he was unsettled was his shaking hand. As soon as she took the note, he stuck the offending hand into his pocket.

"Who gave this to you?" she asked.

"You'll understand if you read it."

She unfolded the note.

 _Dear Celeste,_

 _First I want to say I'm sorry. I know you're probably angry with me now. Maker, I don't blame you. Second, please know this is not about you at all or anything you did or said. This is about something that happened a long time ago, and I never had the chance to put right._

 _I don't want you to think me ungrateful or that you weren't enough. You were more than I ever deserved to hope for. If I don't come back, give Rutherford this note and he'll be able to find me. Tell him… tell him paper bird._

 _Yours always,_

 _Raleigh Samson_

She turned the paper over to check if there was more, even though she knew there wasn't. "Ren, when did he give this to you?"

Ren took a step back. "Uh…"

"When?"

She doubted he had ever heard her so angry, but now she could no more control her anger than she'd been able to control her magic as a child.

Ren's bottom lip pouted but he pulled it straight, jutting out his chin. "Last night."

"And you waited until now to give it to me?"

He shrank from her. "He asked me to. He said I must give it to you this morning. After breakfast."

She sank down onto the steps, holding her head in her hands. "What else did he say?"

"He said that he was going away for a while but he will come back, although they might put him in the dungeon. He said he had to do something important. But he is coming back, Mom. He promised." Poor Ren's voice was shaking.

"It was wrong of him to give you the note. He should have spoken to me directly."

"He said you wouldn't have let him go."

That was very true. She was shaking with rage. She wrapped her arms around herself to hold herself steady. "Self sabotage," she muttered. Hawke was right. It was the only thing that made sense. Hawke! She stood up so fast that Ren stumbled backwards.

Hawke might know what the note meant.

Celeste was only vaguely aware of Ren following her along the ramparts to the door that lead into the tavern. She marched down the stairs, knowing without a doubt where she'd find Hawke.

He did not disappoint. She slammed the letter down in front of him on the bar. He turned to her with eyebrows raised.

"Tell me what it means?"

He lifted the letter, still watching her.

"Hey," Cabot said. "No children in the tavern."

Ren was standing at her skirts. She placed what she hoped was a reassuring hand on his shoulder. It was still early and the tavern was all but empty. "We'll be leaving in a minute."

"Rules is rules," Cabot insisted.

"Hawke?" Celeste pleaded. He was still scanning the page.

"I'm sorry, I can't help. I don't know what he's talking about."

Hawke pushed the page back to her.

"No children," Cabot repeated.

"Give me a minute!" Celeste snapped.

When she looked down at Ren, she saw his eyes were glassy. His face was screwed up, his chin still jutting out. He was fighting those tears back with everything in him. Her anger melted away and she sank to her knees beside him, drawing him into her arms. "Hey, it's alright. I'm sorry I shouted."

"It's not alright," he said in a tear-soaked voice. "Ser Samson's in trouble, isn't he?"

She pulled away enough to look him in the eye. "Well, it's like that night with the wolves." She brushed aside some hair that fell into his face. His nose was already red. "You didn't mean to do anything wrong. You thought you were doing a good thing. A brave thing. You didn't realise the danger. It's kind of like that. I need to find him before the wolves get him."

"If I'd given you the note last night, he wouldn't be in danger." The last word came out on a sob.

"It's not your fault, Ren." She pulled him into another hug. "It's his fault, not yours."

Hawke stared down at them from his perch on the stool. "Alright, I have _an_ idea. It might not be a good idea. But we best not talk here."

They didn't talk on the way to the Grove either. It was even prettier now than it had been when Celeste had last visited it a month ago. The flowers were in full bloom and they twisted into one another like a bright mosaic of colour. The wind whistled through the crags above them.

Hawke turned to Celeste and folded his arms. "Did Samson ever tell you why he was kicked out of the Templars?"

"He was charged with corrupting a mage."

Ren cut in. "He had a friend who was a mage and he passed love letters for him. And he was caught."

"Exactly." Hawke smiled at Ren, but he didn't look happy. "And the mage was made Tranquil. Samson always blamed himself for that. When I met him, he would talk of nothing else. How he used to be a good Templar, how he might be a good Templar again if I just put in a good word for him. And eventually he let slip that part of his motivation was to make things right for Maddox. He couldn't…. untranquil... him. But I guess he wanted to keep an eye on him, make certain he was safe. Samson must have saved him in Kirkwall that day." Hawke swallowed and looked at his feet, turning up dirt with his shoe. "When the Inquisition hunted him down, Maddox was there. So, Samson must have somehow got him out of the Circle. I thought… I thought all the Tranquil died there. I don't get the paper bird thing. Maybe it's a reference to the letters." Hawke shrugged. "But my best guess is that if he's gone to find someone it's Maddox… well, Maddox's remains."

"Remains?" Ren asked, voice pitching. "He's dead? Did the Inquisition kill him?"

Celeste put a hand on his shoulder again.

"No," Hawke said. "He took poison."

"Does Raleigh know he's dead?" Celeste asked.

Hawke nodded. "Cullen brought it up at his trial. He didn't seem to react to the news then. Maybe… maybe he wasn't capable of it."

That steeled Celeste's resolve. It would have been one thing if he'd run away to do something meaningful… but simply visiting a body? Throwing away everything to pay his respects?

She shoved down the part of her that said that was romantic and asked the only question that mattered. "Where is Maddox's grave?"

* * *

Celeste stole across the dark courtyard towards the gates well before dawn, pulling her horse as quietly as possible, even though she had cast a spell that made them less noticeable.

Ren was safely tucked up in Natalia's care. With any luck, she'd catch up with Samson before Ren had a chance to miss her.

She was a few paces clear of the barn when the unmistakable sound of metal drawing across metal cut through the still night.

Cassandra stepped from behind the barn. Her blade, held out in front of her, glinted in the semi-darkness. "Stop right there."

Celeste held up her hands innocently, even though blood roared in her ears. "Seeker Cassandra, I can explain," she stuttered.

"Then explain." She advanced. "Tell me this is not what I think it is. The maleficar who is involved with General Samson sneaking away to help him. I am interested to hear what other story you come up with."

Cassandra looked even more severe than usual in the moonlight.

"I… I'm not… I mean that's not…"

What was it about this woman that turned Celeste into a gibbering mess?

"Where are you going?" Cassandra jabbed her blade at Celeste's chest. "Something is going on. You must all think I am blind. First the Hero leaves, then Cullen, then Samson, and now you. My letters to Ma - to the Inquisitor have gone unanswered, Leliana is more cagey than ever and Varric keeps looking at me with this _sparkle_ in his eye. I am tired of the games. You will tell me."

"I…" Celeste searched for something to say. Where did Trevelyan come into it? Did he? Or was that just another coincidence?

"Either you are part of this plot, or you a criminal fleeing to assist your lover as I warned Knight-Captain Rylen you would. Which is it?"

She made it sound so terrible. She was fleeing to assist Raleigh, but only to protect him from Cullen's men and bring the blighted fool back. In magical bindings if necessary. But Cassandra wouldn't understand. It _did_ sound bad. She and Raleigh could make quite the evil duo if they willed it. She swallowed.

"I don't know where the Inquisitor is, but I know that Leliana sent Cullen and Solana on a mission together to help them repair their marriage." Cassandra's mouth formed an 'o'. Sensing a possible escape, Celeste forged on. "You know that Solana is my closest friend. Leliana hasn't heard from her since they left. So she's sending me as reassurance."

Cassandra's eyes narrowed. "And Samson?"

"I don't know where he went. I'm as worried as you. I'm the one who reported him missing. Maybe he is involved. "

"And Leliana trusts you?"

"She trusts that I care about Solana. Given the nature of the mission, is that not enough?"

Cassandra pressed her lips together. "Tell me what else you know about this mission?"

Celeste wanted desperately just to tell the truth. It was easier than coming up with a lie. But Cassandra was the one person who could not find out. She'd send the entire army after Anders. She'd likely start the very war Solana and Cullen had been sent to avoid.

"It's something to do with the Grey Wardens," she said instead. Not a lie.

 _Too vague._ Cassandra scowled again.

"Do you know who Blondie is? Varric referred to a Blondie who he thinks is behind this." _A gamble._

"Anders! He thinks Anders is behind this?"

 _So I was right then._ Varric had really been talking about Anders.

Cassandra turned around, scratching the back of her neck. "I _knew_ it was suspicious when he left, but they kept telling me, 'Cassandra, it was just a couple's tiff, Cassandra, you're too paranoid.' Oh, but this is terrible. Why would they keep it from me?"

Celeste offered a noncommittal shrug. "I'm sorry, I can't answer more of your questions. I wish I could. Leliana said an agent would meet me on the road to further brief me. Perhaps you should go speak to her."

Celeste kept her hands still, but mentally she crossed her fingers. She waited while Cassandra paced in the small space before them.

"Alright. I will go and talk to her about this. Come along."

Celeste's heart fluttered. "What?"

Cassandra gestured to the stairs with her chin. "Come. We will go see her now. If she confirms your story, you may go."

* * *

 _A/N Cullen and Solana stuff soon, promise! :)_


	95. The night is long

The last time Celeste had entered Leliana's sanctum at night, it had been quiet and dark. Now it was brightly lit, with scouts and agents working busily and the spymaster pacing in front of her altar to Andraste.

"I hope I am not disturbing you." Cassandra had to duck as a small flock of birds came in through the window and spiralled to land on their perches and cages, squawking loudly enough to drown out all else.

When the commotion of the birds' arrival had died down, Leliana was standing before them with her hands draped behind her back. "No word on Samson yet, I'm afraid."

Anxiety felt like acid in Celeste's stomach. Was this in any way salvageable?

Leliana's keen blue eyes scanned Celeste; she could almost feel them scraping over her. They took in the riding breeches, the cloak. No doubt the pack, too.

"This is about another matter," Cassandra said. "May we speak alone?"

Leliana gestured to the balcony.

Celeste followed Cassandra out, concentrating on keeping her hands from fidgeting. They walked around the tower a little way, until the noise from inside faded a bit. The night was warm for Skyhold, but a cool wind battered against the keep, stinging Celeste's skin. She scanned the surrounding roofs and trees for possible escape, but they were too high up. She was stuck.

"Celeste tells me that you sent Cullen and Solana away on a mission to work on their marriage. Is this correct?"

Leliana's brow furrowed. "I trust this is not a problem? You agreed to lend me the Commander."

"No. _That_ is not a problem. What is a problem is you hiding the nature of their mission from me."

"I did not hide anything from you, Cassandra," Leliana said with a sweet smile.

"What is their mission, in that case?" Cassandra demanded.

Leliana didn't answer immediately and Celeste wished there was some way she could communicate what she'd said. This could spiral out of control so easily. _Don't mention the Chantry, don't mention the dreams._

Leliana cocked her head to the side, looking docile as a halla. "I sent them to speak to someone who had given us some trouble. With any luck that will be all that's need-"

"Anders." Cassandra cut her off.

The spymaster nodded.

"Anders went rogue and you didn't think you should _tell_ me? I am standing in for the Inquisitor, Leliana. I deserve to-"

"And you're going to be the next Divine."

Cassandra blinked at her.

Leliana smiled again, less sweetly. "I know that as the next Divine, you could not let him live. There is no smooth political solution for this. Only a personal one." Her expression became serious. "If Solana and Cullen fail, we may have no choice. But I'd prefer to handle this peacefully, if we can."

Cassandra shook her head. "Why do you insist that apostate gets another chance? What he did in Kirkwall… What it inspired."

"And what would his death inspire, Cassandra? He would be more powerful as a martyr. I'm handling this. Let me handle it. You have enough to concern yourself with."

"You should have informed me." Cassandra scowled. "I had every right to know about this threat. And the Grey Warden involvement… what if this is bigger than him? The last time Wardens were involved in something like this we-"

"I know. And I had every intention of reporting to you when I knew more." Her eyes travelled to Celeste again. "Although it seems Celeste beat me to it."

Celeste felt very small, like a child witnessing the adults talk. She stood still, willing herself to fade into the stone, to disappear.

"Yes, about that." Cassandra's attention moved to Celeste too. "She tells me you have sent her to check on the mission progress."

Celeste didn't dare breathe.

Leliana smiled that sweet smile. "She and Solana have a special bond."

Celeste's insides jerked. It was ambiguous. Not straight condemnation. What was the spymaster playing at?

Cassandra noticed the ambiguity too. "So you did send her after Solana? And you were going to have someone meet her on the road?"

Under any other circumstances, Celeste would have made her displeasure known at being discussed this way while she was standing right there, but now she bit down on her tongue, every muscle tensed.

Leliana smirked. "As luck would have it, the very woman I wished to send to meet her just arrived back from her last assignment. There won't be any need for you to journey alone after all, Celeste."

"Oh," Celeste said. She didn't feel relieved. She felt very much out of her depth. Both women were still looking at her, so she added, "That's good."

"It _is_ good," Leliana said. "It should save you time. Speaking of… Cassandra, time really is of the essence. If you have no further queries?"

"Of course I have further queries! I wish to know everything you have discovered so far about-"

"Fine." Leliana held up her hands in submission. "But I must send Celeste on her way first. I'll meet you in the Inquisitor's office as soon as I'm done here, alright?"

Cassandra's eyes were still narrow but she nodded. "Alright."

Celeste could tell she was reluctant to drop the subject. She threw Celeste one last look as she marched away, and it said plainly that she wasn't yet convinced.

When Cassandra was gone, it was like a clamp had been loosed from around Celeste's chest and she could breathe again, but the feeling was short lived. No sooner was the Seeker out of sight then Leliana turned to her. All sign of that sweet persona she'd showed Cassandra was gone.

"Speak."

Celeste realised for the first time that Leliana had very sharp teeth. Behind those pretty lips, they glinted, bringing to mind a wolf on the prowl.

She knew better than to lie. "I was going after Samson."

Running from a wolf only made them chase harder.

"So you haven't had further dreams?"

The question surprised her. She'd been expecting some reaction to the confession. Was that why Leliana had protected her, because she thought she had a clue? New fear curled its way up the centre of her back, leaving a trail of cold sweat.

"No. I… I lied to the Seeker. She thought I was plotting with Samson, she thought I was going to meet with him to enact some terrible… but that's not true. I promise, it's not. I want to bring him home before Cullen's men find him."

Leliana's look softened a bit. "And you know where he is?"

How dangerous would it be to tell Leliana what she knew?

Very dangerous.

But it was more dangerous not to.

"I have a clue. He's gone to mourn a friend."

Leliana snorted, turning to look out at the night. Dawn would come soon. The air had that icy taste to it now. Celeste waited.

Eventually Leliana sighed. "I can give you a day's head start. No more. If you tell me where you're going, I can make sure the route is clear. Of Cullen's men, and mine. But after that, I'm afraid… he's too dangerous. It's too great a risk."

"I understand," Celeste said, hardly daring to believe that Leliana was letting her go.

"One more thing."

Here came the catch.

"You can't return with him. I'm sorry but it would be too incriminating. I'll send someone to tail you. You can hand Samson over to her. She will see he's brought back to Skyhold safely."

 _But Ren is here._ "Where would you have me go?"

"You told Cassandra you were going after Solana. Perhaps you should."

Celeste couldn't find anything to say. The spymaster was asking her to go to that voice, that awful voice that may or may not have been Anders. It chilled her to her core just thinking about it.

"Perhaps Hawke would join you," Leliana suggested. "I heard he might be looking to go after Anders himself." When Celeste still didn't say anything, Leliana added gently, "You don't have to leave."

Yes, she did. "If I give Samson to your handler, you swear he'll be safe?"

"I can promise you he'll make it to the dungeon. What happens after that is out of my hands."

* * *

Hawke answered his door bleary-eyed from either alcohol or sleep - Celeste couldn't tell which.

"I'm going to get Samson. And then I'm going to get Anders. You coming?"

Be blinked, rubbing at his beard. "Define 'get'."

She slipped past him into his room. "I know where Solana is going. I can take you there. But we need to leave now."

Hawke's gaze moved to a half-packed bag at the foot of his bed. He stared at it, as if willing it to move.

She sighed. "I can get you something for the hangover on the way."

"I'm not hungover, I'm thinking."

"Think fast."

Alise chose that moment to start crying. Perhaps their voices had disturbed her. Celeste wasn't sure how thick the walls were here. Hawke shut his eyes.

"Hawke?"

"I'm tired of leaving," he said softly. "I'm tired of running." He seemed to be talking to himself more than he was talking to her. "What are you going to do to Anders when you find him?"

"Depends what state he's in."

Hawke stumbled over to the bed. He pulled open a drawer and rummaged in it. "Shit... no pencil. No ink." He scratched some more. "Well, can I give you a message for him?"

Celeste nodded. If he _was_ that thing that had spoken to her in her dreams, he wasn't likely to listen, but she didn't want to tell Hawke that.

Hawke cleared his throat, sitting down heavily on the bed. "Um. I… I guess just tell him that I forgive him. For before. With you and the…" He waved a hand. "And shit, if it's not him… if it's Justice and he won't stop killing, maybe you can talk him down. Void, you talked Samson right. Maybe… thing is, I don't know how much good I'd do if I came. I've been trying to talk Anders away from the brink for years and I haven't had much success. Is it cowardice for me to stay?" He looked at Celeste with large sorrowful brown eyes.

"No," Celeste said as gently as she could.

"It is selfish though." Hawke dropped his head into his hands. "I should come with you. Just, give me a minute. I'm almost packed. I won't take long."

Celeste sat down beside him. "Do you still love him?" she asked.

He drew a very deep breath, one that moved his shoulders up and down. "That's the question of the hour. Of the year, I suppose."

"If the answer doesn't come easily, I'd say it's clear."

"He's my responsibility." Hawke's voice was softer than Alise's crying from next door.

"No," Celeste said. "He's not."

Hawke raised his head just enough to look at her. "You realise Samson isn't your responsibility either?"

"I know. That's not why I'm going."

"Why then?"

"Because I…" The magnitude of what she was about to say landed on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. "Because I do love him."

Hawke managed a bit of a smile at that. "We'd make a very good pair on the road, you know? Both of us chasing the villains we love."

Her heart was still pounding after her confession. She should have said it to Samson, not to Garret Hawke. She inclined her head. "I suppose we would. If that's what you want."

He turned his face away. "I may not feel what I once did, but I still want to protect him. Cullen and Solana are two of the most lethal people I know."

"You think they want to kill him?"

"I know they want to stop him."

"If Leliana wanted to kill him she would have sent her spies, or she would have just told Cassandra about the whole thing. She sent Solana. If there is a peaceful way, she'll find it."

Hawke stood, sighing again and running his hands through his hair. "You're his friend, aren't you? I mean, you worked together?"

Could it be called that? She'd written him letters for months begging him to come to Skyhold and lend his skills to the search for a cure for the Taint. But when he'd arrived, she'd always felt more like an assistant than a friend. It was a role she fell into easily, familiar from the Circle. The apprentice helping the enchanter. He had always been kind and courteous. He'd never snapped at her as Fiona had, or as the older mages at the Circle had. She nodded at Hawke.

He turned back to her. "If something happens to him and I'm not there, I'm not sure I'll ever forgive myself."

She rose to her feet. "If there's a way to save him, you have my word I will try everything in my power to do so."

Celeste was gone before the first light touched the horizon. She made it to Rainesfere by the next night, but didn't stay over. She traded her horse and kept riding. _One day head start_.

She hoped Leliana's agent could keep up.

* * *

The darkness crept in from all sides like in some terrible nightmare. Or perhaps night fell at normal speed, but to Solana it didn't feel that way. She drove herself forward, fighting off the branches that caught on her cloak and in her hair, breathing so hard she sounded like she was sobbing. They had wandered through the forest for two days and three nights and had seen _nothing_ indicating a direction in which to travel.

At first she had tried to retrace her steps, remember the marks she'd made to get them back to the main route. But whether or not she was successful, they saw no further markers. They could not hear the river, they could not see the stars. An oppressive grey sky shimmered between branches occasionally but not often. And when they did see the moon - which was seldom - it was directly overhead and they could not go towards it. She'd tried to climb the trees, but had been unable to get high enough. They'd run out of rations. The pie was a distant memory, and all the other bits she'd collected from Gideon's had been used.

They hadn't seen game in two days. Aside from the hunger pangs, it meant that there was likely something unnatural happening in these woods. Something like mages raising an army. Or darkspawn prowling through the night. She didn't even have the Taint to sense them.

"Solana, please slow down." Cullen sounded as tired as she felt. She wanted to argue, but she was running on nothing but fear, and that couldn't last all night.

"We should make camp," he suggested. His voice was near her ear but she couldn't see him. It was dry and cracked. Water was another thing they'd run out of.

"Alright," she agreed. "Let's… let's keep going until the trees are a little less dense. We can set up a tent."

His hand touched her arm. She wasn't sure if it was supposed to be reassuring, or if he was just feeling his way forward in the growing dark and had accidentally found her. Whatever the reason, he said nothing.

They moved forward at a more careful pace, pushing between tree branches and climbing over roots. Solana was starting to believe the forest would never open up, that they were going to eventually find the trees too dense to pass through and they would become trapped and devoured by the forest. And then it did. She could breathe.

It wasn't much of a clearing. She cast light through her staff and took a look around. The floor was mulchy and the trees thick as a wall around it. That was all she could see before she had to snuff out the light out because the mana was eating at her energy and casting made her feel faint.

"Are you alright?" Cullen asked, nearer than she thought he was.

"No," she said. "But yes. Don't worry about me. Let's set up camp."

They worked together gathering sticks and leaves for a campfire. It was a relief just to sit, to be without her pack. She buried her head in her hands and tried to still her rapid heartbeat, find some inner peace, but her aching stomach nagged at her.

"Solana!" Cullen hissed. She looked up to find his attention turned towards something in the woods. She followed his gaze. A halla, illuminated by a beam of moonlight, like something from a hunter's tale.

It shone white against the darkening forest, seeming so otherworldly that she hardly believed it was there. As if sensing their gaze, it looked up at them. Docile doe eyes watched them cautiously. An ear twitched.

Solana dared not breathe. She pulled her mana into a tight ball, ready to cast a Winter's Grasp. Perhaps the elven gods were real after all. Perhaps they'd come to her and Cullen's aid in this wild place.

She cast.

She missed.

Her spell crashed into a nearby branch and the halla darted away through the trees.

"No!" she scrambled to her feet and took off after it.


	96. The path is dark

Cullen's desperate voice called through the trees behind her, but Solana ignored it. All that mattered was the halla. The blessing. The salvation. The chance she'd squandered.

She threw herself forward, jumping over tangled roots, ducking under grasping branches, falling and stumbling more than she was running.

It was just ahead of her - just in sight - just around that trunk.

Then it wasn't. There was only darkness and the breathing of the trees.

 _No…_

Solana felt her way blindly, lungs aching, refusing to give up even though she could no longer see it. _A little further. A little longer._ Until her shaking legs would no longer hold her weight and she sank down to the forest floor, staff limp in her hand.

"Solana!" Somehow Cullen found her.

She didn't respond as he approached, as he collapsed beside her, panting. She heard him ask if she was hurt, but his voice sounded so far away.

They were going to die out here.

He grabbed her shoulder roughly. "Solana, answer me! Are you hurt?"

She was a ragdoll in his grasp. How many times had she faced death? How many times had she stood staring into its maw? But then her blood had pounded with purpose, her power had sang. All of that, to come to this. Dying of hunger in some unknown part of an Orlesian a forest.

"It's my fault," she whispered. "It's my fault I didn't get more supplies, it's my _hubris_. We wouldn't even _be_ here if not for me-"

"We're here because of Anders," Cullen said calmly.

"No, we're not. We're chasing Justice. Because I- He's that way because of me. _My_ actions. And when we don't stop him, when we fail… the Circles and war and… Alise."

Her throat closed on the name. Precious baby girl, alone, an orphan. No better off than Solana had been in the Circle.

 _I should never have come here. I should never have left her._

 _What kind of hero dies before they even reach the fight?_

She pushed down on Cullen's shoulder for leverage as she struggled to her feet. "I need to find it. I can catch it with one spell. That's all I need."

"Solana!" He tried to pull her down again, but she tugged her arm free and backed away from him.

He struggled to his feet. "You don't have the energy for this." The forest was so dark now that she could no longer make out his features at all. He was just a slightly darker shape than everything else around them. "You won't find that halla again now."

"I'll use magic, I can light the way." She sent energy up her staff for emphasis. The rune at the end flickered and threw warm light across Cullen's face. But it guttered like a candle.

"Put that out, Solana." His eyes were manic in the odd light. "You don't have the energy."

"I can. I will. I just have to-"

He closed the distance between them in two strides and grabbed hold of the staff. He was strong, but he wasn't as strong as he usually was. She managed to hold on. "No! I have to! Let me!" She struggled against him, she clawed at his hands. "Cullen! Let go! I need to!"

 _We have to eat. I have to save us! I have to make this right!_

He wrenched the staff from her grip and tossed it to the ground. Before she could bend to snatch it up, he had her wrists in his hands and he pushed her backwards until the trunk of a tree hit her back.

"Cullen, you have to let me make this right. I have to make everything right. I have to-"

"Putting yourself in danger is not going to undo anything."

"Let me try-"

"And use up all your mana? Die of exhaustion?"

"I have a little left."

Cullen growled and pressed her hands above her head. "You keep trying to sacrifice yourself and for what? The Blight is over. You aren't a Grey Warden anymore. You don't have to be the Hero. I know you have regrets. Maker, we all have regrets. But I'm _here_. Alise is _here_. I've already watched you die once, Solana. Don't make me do it again. Please."

"Cullen…" Guilt and fear and hunger and exhaustion and so much else tangled within her chest.

Actions had consequences, Hawke had warned. And now the consequences for all of hers had arrived. And it wasn't an epic battle - that she could have handled. It was wasting away alone with Cullen and her demons. She shivered and, despite her best efforts to blink them away, hot tears spilled from her eyes.

Cullen dropped her wrists. And then, unexpectedly, she felt his touch against her cheek. "Solana… I'm here. We're still alive. Not all is lost."

A sob escaped her and she let her head fall forward onto his chest. They stood that way for some time, no sound but the whispering of the branches overhead.

And then he put his arms around her.

She dared not move, didn't even want to breathe. Even in his armor, she could feel his warmth. She was wrapped in him, a cocoon of safety that felt more like home than anywhere else ever had.

He'd pressed her against a tree before, on another night, in another forest.

 _Would you like to join me in my tent?_

 _Maker, yes._

Back when they'd been careful with each other, when they'd turned towards each other instead of away.

"Cullen, I'm so scared." Her voice trembled.

His lips brushed across her forehead and her insides jolted at the intimacy of the contact. "I'm here." he repeated.

His hand found her chin in the darkness, and he tilted it up as if coaxing her to look into his face, although surely he knew she could see nothing of it. "I'm with you."

His lips met hers.

In the darkness she saw colours. She saw the golden light of that day in the chantry when they'd said their vows, the orange of the fire when he'd held her while she'd confessed her darkest secrets. The purple of the dawn across the Approach when they'd stayed up all night playing chess. The blackberry juice on his fingertips.

He pulled away, too soon. She waited for his stammered apology, like when he'd kissed her at Skyhold under false pretenses, but no apology came.

"Tell me you want this." His voice was low and heated, a spell held in the palm, passion barely contained.

 _Want it_? Pressed between this tree and his body, her entire being yearned for him. Her lips tingled, craving another kiss. She traced her fingertips up from his neck, along his jaw and his prickly cheeks, feeling the shape of the face she could not see. She found his mouth with the pads of her thumbs. Even by feel he was beautiful. Now he was holding his breath. She brought her lips to his.

Her aim was a little off. She caught his upper lip, where his scar was, and their noses bumped.

He made a low throaty sound. His hands locked around her upper arms and then his lips were on hers again, a deep, hungry kiss that stole her breath and yet… it felt like the moment that pillow had been removed from her face. Precious air. Precious life.

Cullen. Her husband. She wrapped her arms around him and the forest, their mission, everything else melted away. There was nothing but the taste of his lips, the solid, familiar feel of him. His hands tangled through her hair and hot blood pulsed through her. She felt formless, and yet intensely aware of every part of her and how much it ached for him.

Heat built at her centre. He ran his hands down her body, coming to rest on her hips. _Lift my robes._ They'd been apart for months, but the thought of being apart a moment longer was unbearable.

Instead, Cullen drew away. The space between them was probably no more than a few inches, but it felt gigantic. Her stomach plummeted at the sense of loss.

"You realise this is incredibly reckless," he said. He was short of breath as she was. "Mages, Wardens, Darkspawn, who knows what else lurks in the shadows around us."

He was right. "And we should conserve our energy."

The unmistakable sound of his buckles cut through the silence.

He was undressing.

Maker, she had never heard a more welcome sound. She closed the agonising space between them and felt for the straps that kept his chestplate in place.

"Commander Cullen being reckless?"

He _laughed_ , and she changed her mind about the most welcome sound.

He shrugged off his surcoat and she helped him lift the chestplate over his head. The rest of his armour took far too long to come off. He moved away from her again as he fought with leather ties. Her own clothing was done away with swiftly, but his took an age. She heard each piece hit the ground and counted them off in her mind. Vambraces, pauldrons, gorget, doublet, shirt, belt, boots. Had it always taken him this long to undress?

 _No more waiting._ She found him in the dark, practically crashing into his warm body, which was closer than she'd thought. He wrapped his arms around her, engulfing her in heat, and he made an appreciative noise at her state of undress. He was still partly clothed, but his chest and arms were bare and they smelled like _him_. Oh, how she'd missed this. She dragged her lips across his collarbone and kissed a path his neck. Cullen moaned softly, a sound she hadn't heard in far too long. His hands brushed down her ribs, but he paused at her hips.

"Say you are still my wife?"

The question surprised her, but she answered it without hesitation. "I'm still your wife. I'm your wife as long as you'll have me. I love you, Cullen. I never stopped. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt you. I never wanted-"

He tugged her into a kiss again, hands firm on her hips and lips pressing against hers so hard it hurt her mouth. He walked her backwards, back towards the tree trunk, but before she felt it hit her back, the ground beneath her feet gave in.

She stumbled, clinging to Cullen as she tried to find purchase, but there was no longer any ground to stand on. His hands dug into her hips as he tried to help, but the forest floor must have given away beneath him too. They tumbled through the black darkness, landing hard enough to knock the breath from Solana's lungs. They kept rolling, falling, flying downwards. Cullen hugged her to his chest, shielding her head against his shoulder as stones and roots slapped against them and the ground hit them over and over again.

Finally, she landed with a jolt, gasping for air, stunned, with Cullen's weight on top of her.

He scrambled off her as he came to his senses. "Are you hurt?"

Laughter bubbled up from her chest, a mixture of relief and shock. A ridiculous joke came to her, but she dared not say it.

"You're going to make a comment about me sweeping you off your feet, aren't you?" Cullen guessed.

"No." But it was close. "I was going to say when you implied we should go for a tumble, I didn't realise that's what you meant."

He laughed breathlessly, nuzzling into her hair and finding her ear, which he nipped playfully. "So long as you're not injured."

She knew there would be bruises in the morning, but for now she was relieved they hadn't fallen into some spiked trap or onto hard stone. The ground beneath them was soft and… damp?

She reached out with a hand. It landed in mulch. She felt around in a wide circle. All damp. "Cullen, I think… I think there might be water nearby."

"Water?" He reached out to feel it too. "That's good," he said in a measured voice, but he didn't move from her.

They should probably try to explore. Her throat was parched, and it was dangerous to be here without any supplies or way of defending themselves.

"It is good," she repeated.

There was a pause before Cullen replied, lips so close to hers that his words vibrated against her mouth. "It's probably better to explore in the morning. We don't know the lay of the land here. For all we know, we might be on the edge of a cliff."

"That's true," she agreed. "We'll have to be careful we don't move too much."

She heard the smile in his voice as he agreed. "Yes. We might have to stay like this all night."

* * *

A wall of sound hit Celeste as she entered the tavern. It stank of ale and sweat. Good to know that for all the Orlesian flouncing, an inn was an inn.

She found the innkeeper behind the bar, telling a story to a drunkard. He raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at her when she approached. "If you're looking for a room, we're full up."

"Actually, I'm looking for a man." She described Raleigh to him and he started to smirk before she was done.

"This your husband?"

"No."

"Lover then." He chuckled. "You seem to know all the little details of this man's face…"

"Have you seen him?" She was too tired for diplomacy.

"Afraid not." The man shrugged.

"Hey, I saw that man you just described," the drunkard offered. The innkeeper glared at him. "What? He was here earlier. I remember the hairline particularly. Ugly brute. You could do better, you know?"

Celeste turned her attention back to the innkeeper. Now she raised her eyebrow.

"Alright, alright. He was here. But he has left. I'm not in the business of helping estranged wives track down their husbands."

The drunk belched. "Not unless they can make it worth your while, I'm sure."

If he was here earlier, she didn't have time to haggle. "I'll catch him on the road. Thank you."

She turned from the bar, ready to head out again, when a movement on the stairs at the other side of the room caught her eye. Or rather, a sudden halt in movement. Someone had been coming down the stairs and had stopped abruptly.

Her eyes met Raleigh's.

And then he ran.

He jumped the last few steps, and pushed between people, scrambling to get to the door. Celeste struggled through the crowds packed around the bar, elbowed and ducked and weaved, reaching the door just in time to see his retreating back as he ran into the night.

If he thought it would be that easy to get away from her, he had another thing coming.

She raised her staff. Damn the consequences. All mages were apostates now anyway.

At her bidding, the air around him became thick as honey. She walked towards him as he struggled comically to escape. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't outrun her now.

She only cancelled the spell once she stood in front of him.

He gasped, doubled over. When he looked up at her, his face was pale. Had her power really shocked him so much? "What are you doing practicing magic like that? Out in the open?"

 _That_ was his concern? There was a woop and a laugh from the doorway. She glanced back to find a small crowd gathered. They didn't seem too worried about the magic. "I've been chasing you for three days."

"I told you to stay at Skyhold. I didn't want you involved in this."

"To the Void with that!" Her anger burned cold.

"Didn't Ren give you the note?"

She advanced on him. "Oh yes, my _son_ gave me the note where you explained that you were _abandoning_ us."

Another woop from the doorway. Raleigh looked at their audience, then back to her. "I thought I made my reasons clear."

She slapped him. Four days of pent up rage, egged on by her exhaustion and the watching crowd. The sound of her hand hitting his face rang into the night. The audience cheered.

He stared at her, his dark eyes pools of hurt and confusion, a red mark across his cheek. She regretted her actions instantly. Hadn't she trained for years to control herself?

Yes, she had. That's why she'd slapped him instead of setting his breeches on fire.

"How dare you make him deliver that letter," she hissed. "How dare you make him feel like he was a part of this." She gestured to Raleigh but she meant his crazy endeavour. "If you want to self-destruct, that's your business, but you don't take my son down with you."

"I…" His mouth moved but he seemed unable to form any other words. Good. She waited. She felt the crowd waiting too, leaning in to try hear their exchange. "I'm sorry." He looked at his feet. "I didn't mean to hurt Ren. That's the last thing I'd wish."

"No, it's not." She shook her head vehemently. "If it was you wouldn't have left. You weren't thinking about Ren, you weren't thinking about me. You weren't thinking about Rylen or Cullen or any of the people who've helped you and had faith in you. I should have just let the soldiers find you."

"Yeah, you should have."

At least he had the decency to be contrite. She sighed, the steam leaving her. "I take it you have a room?"

"What?"

She rubbed her eyes. "Here, at the inn. You were coming down the stairs, so I assume you have a room?"

He looked to the onlookers again. She could tell he didn't fancy the idea of going back in there. "Yeah, I have a room," he admitted.

"Good. I need some sleep." The last time she'd slept had been on the boat over from Ferelden. "We can talk privately in there."

"I…alright."

She half expected him to take off again as soon as her back was turned, but he followed her back into the inn - through the laughing, jeering, applauding crowd - and up the stairs. His door was locked and his hands shook when he turned the key.

When they were finally alone in the tiny room, silence hung between them.

"You can take the bed if you like," he said eventually. It was a narrow lumpy thing, definitely not enough room for two.

She nodded. "Although you're going to run the second I shut my eyes, aren't you?"

"What? No. No, I won't. You have my word."

She set down her pack and removed her cloak. "Here's what's going to happen." It was easier to tell him while she wasn't looking at him. "In the morning I am going to hand you over to one of Leliana's spies. She'll make sure you get back to Skyhold in one piece."

"No."

She turned back to him. " _Yes._ "

He shook his head. "No. I didn't come this far for nothing."

"Yes, you did. You came all this way for a _dead man_!" She hadn't meant to raise her voice, especially since she was sure that the inn's patrons were still trying to listen.

"What do you know of it?" he accused her. Confirmation, then. Hawke was right.

"I knew where to find you, didn't I?"

He paced across the room, scratching his head. "You don't understand."

"You're right, I don't."

"I'm not going with some spy-"

"Raleigh, if Cullen's men find you first…"

"They'll what? Give me a lecture? I may as well take my cha-"

"They'll kill you." At his startled look she added, "Maybe. You haven't thought this through. You think those men who attacked you that night were the only ones with a vendetta against you? Raleigh, you're being pursued by the very men you fought to _kill_ less than a year ago."

He appeared to consider this. Then he sighed. "They're disciplined men. It's more likely they'll-"

"I'm not willing to take that chance." She moved towards him and was a little relieved that he didn't flinch away. "I made a special agreement with Leliana that you wouldn't be hurt. Please, Raleigh. You said you cared about me. If you still do-"

"'Course I still do."

"If you still care about me, then please just…" Now that the anger had ebbed, her chest ached once more. She was struggling to contain her emotions, and the lack of sleep didn't help. "Please, just let me hand you over."

"You should get some rest," he said softly. "I'll still be here when you wake. Promise."


	97. The dawn will come

Solana rested her head on Cullen's chest, listening to the sound of the wind in the trees overhead. The night was humid, warm enough that they could lie like this, just being together. He had an arm around her and his heartbeat had calmed to a steady rhythm. She breathed him in.

"I'm your wife," she repeated, keeping her voice soft in case he'd fallen asleep. She was exhausted too. By rights she should be asleep, but her heart had not stilled. It raced with elation and fear and excitement. All of it, all at once. She'd never imagined he might give her another chance. She'd started be believe he didn't even _like_ her. Yet, when they'd made love, he'd clutched her like a lifeline.

But that might have been no more than blind passion. She needed to know.

"And I am your husband," he said. His thumb began stroking small circles at the base of her spine.

"Still, after everything?" She flinched at her own words. What they had between them now felt delicate and precious, and she risked shattering it.

That Cullen didn't answer spoke volumes and she regretted the question. She cuddled closer to him, seeking comfort from the very person whose response she feared.

"I _am_ happy you're cured," he said, as if she had asked a completely different question. "You and Alise. I only wish... I'm certain there was another way. I can't erase that image of you, as the abomination, from my mind."

Once again there was silence interrupted only by the shifting branches. She searched for something to say, something that would be adequate.

He swallowed and she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop herself from speaking. He did that when he wanted to say something difficult and he couldn't find the words. She wanted to hear him more than she wanted to offer excuses he already knew.

"In the Circle," he said eventually. "When it fell. I would... fantasise about you. I mean, a life with you. Not… Maker, why is this so difficult? It was how I kept myself sane. The mages- Well, you saw the sorts of things they'd do. They found a way to take those dreams and turn them into… ghastly nightmares. Images in my mind that would play for hours. And one of them…" He breathed in and she heard his heart rate start speeding up again.

"One of them was me as an abomination," she guessed.

She wasn't sure but she thought he nodded. "Several, in fact." His voice was thick. "There were variations. Sometimes we had a family first and I'd come home and… all of you. And sometimes it would happen at a… well a moment like this."

"And then it happened for real."

"Yes."

She ached, not only in her empty stomach and bruised elbows, but in her chest and her hands too. She'd made his very worst nightmare come to pass. "You were never meant to see that."

He said nothing, but she thought she felt him stiffen. His hand stopped tracing its symbols on her back. Wrong thing to say.

She fumbled for words. "I know I shouldn't have left you like that. But that night, watching you sleep... I just wanted to make everything better and I knew that I could. When you mentioned Morrigan, I realised-"

"So much could have gone wrong. And almost did."

"I know."

"A _demon_ , Solana?"

"I know. It was a calculated risk."

" _How_ calculated?" His voice was loud and hard again, as it had been for most of the journey. She'd broken the moment. She didn't know how to answer.

At her silence, he continued. "You don't even know, do you? You fully accepted that you might die."

She sat up, uncomfortable being so close to him but still nervous of moving too far when they couldn't even see the ground around them. "I was _willing_ to give my life for her."

She felt more than saw him sitting too. "You're willing to give your life for everything. The archdemon, Corypheus, a red templar test subject, a duel with a man you know wants you dead... does the list have an end?"

"It's not like that," she shot back at him. "I... I only wish to help when I'm able."

"And your definition of _able_ is just that much broader than the average person's?"

She didn't know whether he was being sarcastic. It was difficult to judge without being able to see his face. "I don't know, maybe?"

"What is it going to take for you to realise that you're more valuable alive than dead?"

His words knocked the air out of her. She stared at the dark shape she knew to be her husband.

His breath tickled her skin as he leaned in close to her. "You may not feel your life has worth, but I do. Loving you… sometimes… sometimes it's like loving the sun. You burn so bright, you're so powerful, so capable, so beautiful. But I cannot hold you close, I cannot keep you with me. All I can do is follow you and hope to bask in your light."

"That's not true," she whispered, but she knew that he must have spent some time thinking of the analogy. It wasn't the sort of thing that simply came to a person in the moment. And she thought that she understood maybe a little of why it annoyed him when she reminded him she was the Hero. Maybe he wasn't trying to control her, or envious of her ability, or concerned that she was a powerful mage. Maybe it frightened him because it meant she was putting her duty, her desire to help, before her regard for her own life, or the life they were supposed to be building together. She could bring up how he'd gone to the Wilds, how he, too, was here now on this particular quest. But she knew that would only create a greater gulf between them. It wasn't the same. Even if her gut response was to go on the defensive, she had to acknowledge that him leading an army, dressed in layers of leather and metal, was not the same as what she'd done with that demon, or with the darkspawn, or even with Nathaniel.

She couldn't explain the reason to him, she couldn't begin to understand it herself. All she knew was the _drive_. To be _useful_ , to make a difference, to seize the destiny that justified everything; her escape from the Circle before it fell, her being safely atop that tower when the other Grey Wardens were betrayed, Alistair's death…

And the things she'd done too.

She was the Hero. Marrying Cullen, carrying Alise, having friends and family… that wasn't her life. It was a dream in which she'd felt afloat, lost, without identity. She knew who she was. She _was_ the drive.

And perhaps if she had understood this sooner, she would have been cleverer about it. She wouldn't have taken Cullen into her tent that night and she wouldn't be a mother and a wife.

"I don't know how," she whispered aloud. "I don't know how to be something else."

He kissed her again and all she could think as his lips moved against hers was how selfish it was of her to want both. To want him and Alise and to be the Hero. Heroes didn't have families. Wives didn't have duels in town squares. Mothers didn't run across the continent on adventures.

Was she fated to forever be half a person?

* * *

"Tell me about this deal you made with the spymistress, then?"

Celeste jerked awake. Raleigh was sitting at the foot of the bed. Weak morning light highlighted his shape. His elbows were on his knees, his head in his hands.

"I told you." Her voice was sleep-addled. "Her agent will make sure you get to-"

"What was the price?"

She rubbed sleep from her eyes. "Price?"

"Yeah, what did this deal cost you?" Each word was enunciated and they dripped with what sounded like barely-contained rage. "What did you pay for my safety?"

Her first instinct was to deny there was such a price, but perhaps it was good that he understood. Perhaps it would make him more willing to comply.

"I can't go back to Skyhold," she said. What light came through the window wasn't strong enough yet to properly light his features, but she felt his eyes on her. The intensity made her heart beat faster. She cleared her throat. "I lied to Cassandra about my reason for leaving. I said I was going to find Solana. She thought you and I had some evil plot and I'd be meeting you somewhere. Blood magic and the like. Leliana went along with my story on condition I, well, make it true I suppose. Returning with you would be too suspicious, so I'm going to find Solana and Cullen and help them."

He made a strangled sound and ducked his head again. "You shouldn't have come after me. I fully accept the consequences of my actions. My actions _should_ have consequences. Maker, the things I've done... I deserve everything that's coming and more. You shouldn't have gotten in the middle of that, in the way of it."

"Is that what this is about? Punishing yourself?"

He didn't answer.

Sounds of the rest of the inn coming awake drifted up to the room. Outside, horses and a woman talking to chickens as she fed them.

"It's not just about punishment," Raleigh said eventually. "Maddox died for me, when I was the one who ruined his life. He was made Tranquil for corrupting _me_. It shouldn't have ended that way."

She shifted closer to him. "Visiting his body isn't going to change any of that."

"No." He reached inside his shirt and withdrew something. He held it out to her.

A paper bird. Or the likeness of one. It was a page of smooth paper - the expensive type that Josephine liked to use - and it had been folded so that two triangles stuck out as wings, and a third was bent to resemble a beak.

"I've been dreaming of him. For weeks now. But then one morning I woke up and this… this was by my bed. Maddox used to fold these in the Circle. Before they… well, before they made him Tranquil. He'd include one with every bundle of letters I delivered."

She took it from him. It was well worn from being carried in Raleigh's pocket, frayed around the folds.

"Open it," he prompted.

She unfolded it carefully. A short message was scrawled on the inside.

 _I wait for you at the Temple of Silence._

"Who sent this?"

He shrugged.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I wanted to. I nearly did. But what would I say? That I was receiving letters from a dead man? I know how demented that sounds."

"Oh, and this all sounds far less demented now?" She swung her legs off the bed. "You don't know who sent the letter, you don't know what they want, you're going there alone. What if it's one of Corypheus's minions looking to start up a new campaign against the Inquisition? Or, more likely, someone who wants you dead? How could you even think about-"

"If someone wanted me dead, they coulda killed me when they delivered the note in the middle of the night, couldn't they?"

She didn't have an answer. Her blood raced.

He let out a trembling breath. "I'm sorry you got involved. I didn't want that. And Ren… shit." He scrubbed his face. "If it is something against the Inquisition then this is the best way to find out about it, right? Besides… I need to go there. I need to see it all for myself."

A thought occurred to her, and it was so ridiculous that she hesitated to say anything. Still… "Raleigh, you _do_ believe that Maddox is dead?"

She studied his face, trying to work out what was going on in his mind. He didn't say anything at first, then muttered, "Yeah, I know that."

The note _was_ concerning. It was clearly from someone who knew Raleigh well enough to know his deepest regret, someone who went to great effort to draw him out here. She chewed on her bottom lip. "What if I come with you to the shrine?"

His head snapped to look at her again.

"If I come with to the shrine, will you let me hand you over?"

"It's too dangerous. Whoever sent that letter might… and you yourself said Cullen's men were looking for me. I don't want them hurting you."

"Maleficar, remember?" She called fire to her palm, just a flicker of flame to remind him that she wasn't helpless. He looked horrified. "Well, I don't _intend_ to use blood magic. But, whoever wants you is going to have to deal with me too."

His gaze dropped to his lap. "I should be keeping _you_ safe."

"Do we have a deal?" She kept her voice bright and it seemed to work. He offered a hint of a smile and nodded.

"Yeah, alright."

* * *

With the sun came awareness of the bruising. Cullen stifled a groan as he opened his eyes. Red hair. A face full of it.

Despite his sore muscles, the relentless aching of his withdrawal, the hunger in his belly and the newly acquired bruises from the tumble the night before, Cullen smiled.

Solana was asleep in the crook of his arm, her naked body curled up beside his. Images of their night together replayed in his mind. Him following her crashing through the branches, her vulnerability, his desire to protect and comfort overwhelming his fear. And then the kiss, and the feel of her skin. And her warmth. He had feared that she would never show him that warmth again, and yet she'd opened to him as she had that very first night. He didn't want to leave that warmth but...

He shifted the arm experimentally. It prickled at the movement, numb from lying beneath her head all night. Slowly, carefully, he managed to extract it. The only sign that she noticed was a slight change in her breathing. He waited until it returned to normal, then sat.

They were not on the edge of a cliff. That was a relief. Around them there was only mulchy land and the mud that Solana had identified the night before. That would require further investigation. But not now. A more urgent matter had to be seen to first.

Luckily the bank they'd rolled down wasn't too steep in the light. Cullen found his scattered armour easily enough. He pulled on his breeches and retrieved his shirt, but the rest would have to wait. The pack first. Where was the… pack.

The pack was up against the trunk of a tree. The tree that he'd pressed Solana against. And judging by the leaves and earth covering it, he'd managed to stand on it.

No.

He dropped to his knees and shook out the contents. _No no no!_ He could tell the instant he saw the small leather bundle. A dark patch had spread from one of the corners. But he unrolled it anyway, hands shaking. Smashed. The very last lyrium vial had been shattered.

"Cullen?"

He shoved the bundle back into the pack and tried to control his panic. She'd see it if he looked at her. She'd see his expression. He had to _control_ it. He turned to her, trying to force a smile.

She stood at the edge of the slope. Her hair was a mess of leaves and twigs and she had dirt on her face. She was wearing nothing but his surcoat.

"It suits you," he said. It did. With the shade of red and the fur collar, she looked like some ancient queen of nature, regal and wild.

She brushed her hair behind her ears self-consciously, and picked out a dried leaf. "It's the river, Cullen. The source, maybe."

He rose to his feet. "You're certain?"

Solana nodded. "I think so. It's nothing but a stream up here but we can follow it back down to the village. We can drink and we can fish and we can bathe... We're going to be all right." She laughed suddenly. "We're going to be all right." And her laughter was like music.

They were at least two days away from the village, if they travelled through the night.

Without lyrium, he didn't know if he _would_ be all right.

But at least she would.


	98. Forgiven

The sound of metal on metal rang through the courtyard, even though the early morning mist was yet to clear. It swirled around Hawke's ankles, dampening his resolve. Maybe it wasn't time for this yet?

And anyway, Rylen didn't even seem to be here.

"You looking for the Knight-Captain?" a nearby lieutenant asked.

 _Oh, wonderful._ Apparently the entire army knew what had happened between them. Hawke inclined his head.

"He's up by the armory."

"My thanks."

But Rylen wasn't in the armory. Hawke even checked upstairs. An omen, then. He'd speak to him some other time. He exited the door nearest the stairs and stopped. Straight ahead of him, Rylen was standing with a little boy. Celeste's kid. Hawke didn't know what to do. He didn't want to disturb them and Rylen hadn't noticed him yet. He could just back away. But his legs seemed to move of their own volition, drawing him forward into the shade of a tree where he could hear their exchange without being seen.

"Alright, let's try that again. Front guard."

Ren held the wooden sword diagonally in front of his face and made towards one of the training dummies, but Rylen halted him, and corrected the posture so that the sword was vertical.

"Sorry, ser."

"What's with you today, lad?"

Ren stared at his feet and mumbled something.

Rylen stooped to bring himself eye level with him. "What was that?"

This time, Hawke could hear Ren when he asked, "Is my mother ever coming back?"

"'Course she is. Why wouldn't she? You're here."

"The others say she ran away with Ser Samson. And he won't be able to come back here, will he? So she's going to have to be on the run with him."

A sound came from Rylen's throat that was almost like a growl. "Well, that is not the case. On either point. I have people out looking for Samson, and they will bring him back. So don't you worry about that."

"And your mum's not with Samson, she's with the Hero of Ferelden," Hawke cut in.

The boy turned to him with his mouth hanging open. His sword dropped to the ground.

Rylen straightened. A small line appeared between his eyebrows. "Hawke. You're still here."

Hawke scratched the back of his neck. He hadn't left his room days other than to pinch food from the kitchens. It was no wonder Rylen thought he'd gone after Anders. "Yes. I, uh… Can we talk? When you're done here, of course."

Rylen nodded, but his expression revealed nothing of his feelings. Hawke's chest tightened. He turned his attention back to the kid.

"Ren, I saw your mother before she left. She hasn't abandoned you to run off with Samson or whatever they're saying. That's ridiculous. She's gone on an important mission."

The little boy stared at Hawke, eyes almost perfectly round. "But…" His gaze moved quickly to Rylen then back again. He dropped his voice. "But the paper bird."

Ren did not have a promising future as a spy, but the attempt was adorable. Rylen's eyebrows shot up.

Hawke laughed nervously. "I have no idea what you mean, Ren."

"Let's have that talk, Hawke," Rylen gestured to the requisition office with his head. "Ren, carry on practising your guards. Straight sword please."

Morris willingly vacated the room at Rylen's request. The quartermaster stammered an apology, and made a small bow before turning tail.

"Nervous fellow," Hawke commented, watching the door close behind him.

"Paper bird?" Rylen cut to the point.

Hawke sighed. "Alright, so, Samson left a note with Ren about why he left. It was mostly rambling and didn't make much sense. Celeste was trying to figure it out before Leliana made her leave."

"And you know about this note, how?"

This was not the conversation he'd wanted to have with Rylen. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin. This felt almost as bad as being brought before the arishok.

"Celeste knows I used to know Samson, back in the day. She thought it might make sense to me." He left it there, hoping Rylen didn't press him for more. He didn't want to give Celeste up, but he didn't want to lie to Rylen either.

"You should have told me about the note."

"I would have, only, well I was... sort of avoiding you."

Again, Rylen's expression revealed nothing.

"Maybe I should go." This had all gone to shit anyway. He reached for the door handle, but Rylen snagged his arm. Warmth shot through Hawke at the point of contact, like a powerful jolt of magic.

"No," Rylen said in a low, soft voice. "No, please. What was it you wanted to talk about?"

 _Alright… here goes nothing._

"Celeste came to my room the night she left. She told me she was going… well, she was joining Solana, so she was going to Anders. She asked me to join her."

"I see." But the puzzled look on Rylen's face said otherwise.

Hawke licked his lips, finding they suddenly lacked moisture. "I said no. Well, obviously I did because here I am."

"I see," Rylen said again.

Why was this so difficult? "I, uh… I realised that if I left, if I went after Anders this time, it would ruin all chances of, well… well, you wouldn't… what I mean is…" He closed his eyes. He was making a hash of this.

"Hawke," Rylen's voice was still low, and it sounded like music. "I understood from the start how you felt about Anders. You are not responsible for my feelings. I told you. If this was about sparing me…"

"No." His mouth was so _dry_ and his heart was beating so hard it ached. "It was. Is. Look… I'm not used to being happy. I can't remember the last time I was truly happy."

"You don't have to do this Hawke. I told you I understand. You don't owe me any explanation."

"Wait. What I'm saying is. What I'm saying… These past weeks, with you, they've reminded me what happiness is. Maker, that sounds... I just... I've spent three days thinking about this so it's not a spur of the moment thing. I just wanted you to know that if you... That is to say if you saw it in you to give me..." Who was this talking out of his mouth? Where was the smooth talker with the quips? Hawke swallowed. "I was careless with your heart before. I won't be this time. If you can see fit to give me another chance. Maybe not now. Maybe in the future some time. I promise-"

Rylen closed the space between them, seized Hawke's face in his hands and kissed him. Hawke floundered, caught by surprise, so that the kiss ended before he'd even fully realised it had begun. When Rylen pulled away, he was staring at Hawke, looking just as startled as he was. "Sorry, you were saying something."

Hawke shook his head and pressed his lips to Rylen's.

* * *

Celeste would have expected a Tevinter shrine to be a thing of beauty. She didn't know that much about ancient architecture, but she expected it to be opulent like everything else from Tevinter. The Shrine of Dumat was not that.

It was rugged and square, a disruption to the natural beauty that surrounded it. Grey stone and red clay made up the outer wall, lined with triangular merlons that were pierced with arrow slits. A gate so rusted that it had turned black hung half open at the entrance.

Raleigh paused there. He gritted his teeth. His jaw worked. A hand hovered at his belt. Then he strode forward and pushed it open.

There was no one in the courtyard beyond. It smelled of smoke and rot. Broken barricades and crates littered the ground, but above them rose the shrine proper and, for all the dereliction surrounding it, it was a thing to behold. An array of connected pillars - each capped with a tiny glinting pyramid - echoed the triangular shape of the merlons, rising up to a point far above them.

A tattered Red Templar flag hung over the entrance, and Raleigh moved towards it as if in a trance.

Celeste trotted after him. "So are the triangles a Tevinter thing, or significant to Dumat specifically?" she asked, to break the silence.

They had hardly spoken in hours. Raleigh was acting like this was the very last place he wanted to be, rather than the result of so much sacrifice.

Her question warranted a curious look. "Blighted if I know."

He started up the staircase to the entrance, and she fell into step with him, looking around. There had been a battle here, but it hadn't destroyed everything. The tattered remains of a tent stood off to one side, slowly rotting away, and two beds of what must have been ancient plants lined the stairs. She admired the bright flowers pushing up between the roots of the diminutive trees that surrounded a small pile of stones. Embrium, crystal grace and some prophet's laurel. Beautiful. And so out of place somewhere like this. They gave the bed a sense of misplaced whimsey.

Misplaced… she realised just what she was looking at.

Raleigh grunted as she grabbed his arm and pointed down at the stones. At first he didn't see it either. Then she heard the intake of breath. He pulled himself free of her, hopped over the balustrade and fell to his knees beside the stones.

His brow creased as he examined the stone at the very top. There was a word scratched into it, but Celeste couldn't make it out from where she was standing.

"Is it Maddox?"

"No." Raleigh clawed at the ground. "It's not Maddox, it's ash!" He lifted a handful of dirt into the air and let it trickle through his fingers. "The fucking bastards."

The Inquisition must have performed Fereldan funeral rights. That was good, wasn't it? She wasn't sure what Raleigh had been expecting to find. Had he really thought Maddox might have written the note?

"I think it's pretty," she ventured.

"What?" His head snapped around to look at her.

"The flowers. I think it was nice of them to plant them. It's a good place to rest, don't you think?"

His look softened and he turned back to the stones. Silently, he arranged them again. When he was done, he muttered, "We should check inside. Whoever sent the note's probably there."

Inside the shrine, the destruction was more evident. The ceiling had partly caved in, the tiled floor was scattered with rubble. But there was still no sign of anyone else.

Celeste could tell that this part of the shrine had once been pretty. The hall was dotted with great serpent-stone pillars, decorated with twisting patterns reminiscent of snakes or dragons. The heraldry of the Red Templars was draped over long stained glass windows that let in the afternoon sun. Raleigh didn't pay the surroundings any mind. He made straight for a door at the far end of the room.

The only comment he made as they passed through the chamber beyond was, "The lyrium's gone, Inquisition must have cleaned it up."

He picked up speed as they reached the other side of that room, marching with purpose towards a set of heavy double doors. But when he reached them, he paused. "This was where it..." He pressed a hand to the wood of the door. "This was where he would have died. Through here. I'd wager that whoever's waiting for me will be waiting there."

* * *

If Cullen were to sit and think about how to describe that day travelling along the river with Solana, back towards the village, he would have found words inadequate. They feasted on fish that she caught with her magic, and bathed together in the sunshine. They laughed a great deal and touched hands as they walked. A pressure had been lifted now the unspoken things had been said.

Well, most of them.

But her bright smile kept the worst of his concerns at bay.

They stopped for a break at midday and they sat side-by-side on the bank while they ate. Solana rested her head on his shoulder, watching the silver flashes of fish darting through the water. She chuckled.

"Care to share?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about Leliana. We'll never hear the end of this, you realise?"

He snorted. "I suppose there's some comfort in that. The spymaster is supposed to be good at this sort of thing."

"Matchmaking?"

"I was thinking more playing puppet mast-" He stopped mid word, sensing something behind him. He spun around, almost tripping in his rush to get to his feet while reaching for his sword.

There was no one there.

"What's wrong?" Solana asked.

He shook his head. _Paranoia. Lyrium withdrawal._

With a sigh, he sat down again. "I thought I heard... It must have been a bird or-"

Something slammed into the side of his head and everything went black.

* * *

Green and blue flickered across Cullen's vision. His face was hot and his body was being jostled. He stifled a groan as his memory came back to him. He'd been knocked unconscious. He forced his eyes open fully and was able to make out the green to be the forest canopy overhead. Where was Solana? Had they taken her too?

Turning his head to the right, he saw the brown flank of a horse. The the left, the leg of his kidnapper. Grey Warden armour.

He briefly considered trying to attack the rider, but experimental shifting revealed his hands to be bound. The best thing to do was to stay very still and pretend to be unconscious. Maybe he could gain the element of surprise when they reached their destination.

He watched the Grey Warden leg. Occasionally, when the ground was more uneven, Cullen caught sight of the way ahead. At first it was just forest and more forest. And then, something grey poked out between the branches. As they drew nearer, it became apparent that they were approaching some kind of ruins. They passed giant archways, half consumed by vines, and the remnants of walls. He was expecting them to come to a halt when he saw the first small building that was mostly intact, but they kept riding. He wasn't at all prepared for the fort.

Although it probably dated back to the first Blight, this was no ramshackle remnant. It was a massive structure of stone and iron, with a barbican and at least three levels. While he was fixated on the building, another horse pulled in beside his. This rider wore mage robes and Solana was draped over the back of the horse, bound in a similar fashion to him. Her mouth hung open. She was out cold. His heart slammed. What had they done to her?

His Warden dismounted, but Cullen was only concerned with Solana. The mage climbed down from his horse and then he swung Solana over his shoulder.

The Warden may well have tried the same, but as he leaned close to Cullen, Cullen flung his head up, catching the Warden on his chin. While he was distracted, Cullen struggled against his bonds. He needed to get free. He had to get to Solana. But someone shouted something on the other side of the horse and Cullen heard a crack of ice an instant before pain ripped through him and he was frozen solid, staring up at the Warden's face through foggy Warden smiled, and then everything went dark again.


	99. Cast into darkness

Samson moved stiffly. For weeks, getting here had been all he could think of, but now he wanted to be anywhere else.

This room was empty, as the others had been.

Once it had glittered with red crystal, but now it was dull and dark. What light trickled in from the doorway behind them was only able to give the vaguest of shapes to the room beyond. Without comment, Celeste sent a fireball at the nearest sconce.

He'd expected coming back to be more fulfilling. He'd expected it to be sad, yes. But not so _empty_. It was all just shadows and ash now.

Celeste lit the other sconces and time seemed to slow down. He was very aware of her, of how she much she must despise him now. He could still feel the sting of her hand against his cheek. Why was she here? Why had she come after him?

Finally, light bloomed over Maddox's workbench. Most of the equipment was gone - the Inquisition must have taken it. What was left was just a mess of scattered papers and other rubbish. There was nothing of _him_ here. All that remained was outside in the blighted flowerbed, like some family animal buried to appease the children.

There was no peace in seeing the stack of stones that marked his grave, or in being here, in his space.

 _I've thrown away everything for nothing after all._

"Should I look around, see if they've left any other messages for you?" Celeste asked. Her voice bounced off the tiles as she moved further into the room.

"No!" He snagged her by the elbow, but dropped it immediately. She didn't like being touched at the best of times, and she certainly wouldn't want to be now. Why shouldn't she rifle through Maddox's things anyway? It wasn't like the Inquisition hadn't already.

"It, uh, might be dangerous," he offered.

She folded her arms.

"There's probably lyrium all over the place."

There probably wasn't. The Inquisition had likely cleaned it all out with the crystals, but maybe she didn't realise that.

What was he even doing here? "This is pointless, you were right. There's nothing here."

"It's not nothing," she whispered.

"Look at this place, Celeste. Inquisition cleaned it out. And there's no one here. It's clear now what happened. There was never going to be anyone here. They just wanted me to leave Skyhold. Just wanted me to incriminate myself."

It had been his secret fear all along.

"I don't think that's the reason you came here, Raleigh."

Every time she said his first name it made his stomach jerk. Used to be that was a pleasant feeling. Now it was laced with guilt, like everything else. "What did I come here for, then?"

"I don't know." She looked around. "Maybe… maybe because you had to run during the battle, you just needed to see how everything turned out? Maybe that was necessary so you could move on from this point. This place must have been important to you."

"It was," he acknowledged. Did he tell her it was once his seat of power? Did he confess the things he commanded from here? The memories rushed at him, like her suggestion had lifted some portcullis in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut against them. _Sahrnia… the Graves… Haven…_

Haven, where he'd almost had her killed.

"It shouldn't be important to me!" he snapped, voice louder than he'd intended. He wasn't shouting at her, he was shouting at the memories, beating them back. "It should disgust me, revolt me. What I was here… what I became."

He marched over to Maddox's desk and swept off everything the Inquisition had left behind. "And I brought him into it, made him a part of it. He followed me blindly. He-"

Something heavy crashed off the table. It had been buried under parchment and dust, and it landed with a metallic _clang_ that echoed across the room and through Samson's head. _What in the Void was that?_

He knelt down to examine it and his heart skipped.

It was his sword. His sword from before. The one that Corypheus had given him when he'd offered him the title of General. The one that Orlesian git had shattered.

"I don't understand," he whispered, staring at it, not daring to touch it.

Celeste sank to her knees beside him. "Looks like a sword."

"Yeah. It is a sword. Kirkwall steel. I had a sword like it once." He reached forward for it, fingers brushing away the papers that had covered the hilt. Not the same sword. This one had a decorative hilt where his had been plain as a Chantry mother. "Heh. For a moment I thought…" He looked up at Celeste. "I had a sword when all this began. Corypheus gave it to me in Kirkwall. I don't think it was anything special, but the night I broke it I asked Maddox to fix it. Which he did. It was ready for me by the next morning. And right after that, when we reached Therinfal, Corypheus gave me another sword… He gave me the sword of my enemy. The sword that drove Meredith mad. I think the Inquisitor has it now."

Samson lifted this new sword. The grip fit perfectly into his hand. It was heavy and well-balanced, finely crafted. Or was it re-crafted? Is this what the note had been about? Had someone left this here for him? If so, why?

He examined the crossguard. It appeared to be made of knotted iron, reminiscent of the Kirkwall crest. The pommel was smooth but for the very top where the symbol of the Red Templars had been stamped into the metal and surrounded with what looked like coloured glass.

 _No._ His stomach lurched. _Not glass. Lyrium. Red Lyrium._ How had the Inquisition missed this? They must have dismissed it as an ordinary greatsword. Or it really had been left by one of Corypheus's surviving underlings. Someone from Tevinter perhaps. _Oh, Maker, not that._ Celeste was powerful, but even a maleficar from Ferelden had nothing on _those_ mages.

He looked around again, listening carefully for any sound that would indicate they were no longer alone. There was nothing.

"He must have made it for you," Celeste said, leaning to look at the sword over his shoulder.

"That's impossible." He was Tranquil. "Isn't it?" Tranquil weren't sentimental.

"Kirkwall and the Red Templars, who else could it be for?"

The more he looked, the more detail he saw that indicated the creator to be Maddox. There was a pattern of birds carefully etched around the grip. When he moved the hilt, it shimmered red. Red folded in silver. A technique that Maddox had developed himself. There was lyrium in this sword. And only Samson seemed immune to the effect of touching the stuff.

"Look." Celeste pointed to the blade. In the flickering light, Samson could just make out an engraving.

"What is the price of your heart and soul? The right..." There was the beginning of another letter, but the engraving had never been finished. The final touch. An ache started in Samson's stomach and grew as it traveled up to his throat. A sound ripped from his mouth. He felt like he was breaking in two.

"Raleigh?" Celeste's hand on his shoulder. "Raleigh, what does it mean?"

 _The smell of blood and lyrium, a darkened camp, a shattered sword. His men becoming monsters, his men needing to hear encouraging words. He'd thought them up on the spot._

 _It takes fire and an anvil to forge a sword. Isn't it worth the sacrifice? What's the price of your heart and soul? The right to be your own? A red storm will rise._

There was no question now that the sword had been made by Maddox and meant for him. Maddox had been standing beside him that night. He must have committed what Samson had said to memory. He must have planned this gift for months. Every part of the sword had been crafted specially for him. Why did it hurt so much? What was _wrong_ with him?

Celeste wrapped her arms around him, drew him to her chest. He was shivering and his face was wet.

Maker's blood, was he _crying_?

"Shhh…" Celeste stroked his hair away from his face. "I've got you, it's all right."

"I'm not a blasted child," he said, but his voice was betrayed him, broken as he was, and he didn't fight her. In fact, he clung to her, holding tightly to the arms she had wrapped around him. An anchor while the storm raged inside him.

He mourned Maddox, the bright young mage whose life he'd ruined, while wrapped in the arms of another bright young mage, another friend, another who cared for him despite all he'd done, who supported him without question. He would corrupt her, ruin her, as he had Maddox. He should push her away. Instead, he pulled her closer.

He'd never been good at doing what was right.

* * *

The stench of mold and a blinding headache greeted Cullen as he came back to wakefulness.

 _The Grey Wardens…_

"Solana!"

"Cullen!" The sound of feet, rustle of cloth, rattle of chains.

He forced his eyes open. He was in a dim cell - bigger than the Inquisition's, but claustrophobic nonetheless. Solana knelt at his side, but she was fuzzy, like something in the Fade.

Her cool hand pressed against his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

He tried to sit, but his head spun so he lay back on the ground and turned to get a better look at the cell. This place was old. Lichen pushed between the stone, ghoul's beard dangled overhead. A light burned beyond a set of rusted bars and he could hear low voices from the other side, but couldn't see anyone.

"They cursed me..." He closed his eyes again. Her touch was welcome comfort, a counterpoint to the pain in his temples.

"I thought as much. You've been asleep for... a long time."

He peered at her. Even the dim light felt too harsh. "How long?"

"It doesn't matter. You're awake now."

"Solana, how long?"

She frowned. She kept drifting in and out of focus. "It's difficult to say, you've missed two meals."

Two meals? Unless the Wardens were particularly generous hosts, that meant he'd missed two days. He tried to sit again, fighting back the dizziness that gripped him. His empty stomach lurched.

The way he was feeling had nothing to do with whatever spell had kept him unconscious. He was in the throes of withdrawal. Madness was chasing at his heels; he had to run but there was nowhere to go.

Solana pressed against his chest, easing him down. "It's alright, save your strength."

It was not alright, but he bit his tongue. "Are _you_ alright? Have they hurt you?"

"I'm fine."

But by her definition that could mean anything. "Have they made any demands?"

She shook her head.

"Perhaps now that I am conscious, Anders will grant us an audience?"

And maybe Cullen could appeal to him for lyrium?

 _No_ , what was he thinking? He was a prisoner. How could he consider revealing his weakness like that? That's not how he'd been trained. He was already losing his mind. His head _hurt_. He clutched it in his hands, willing the pounding to stop, to let him _think_. "I shouldn't have let us get caught, I should have-"

"Cullen, this isn't your fault."

"I failed to pay _attention_. I was distracted."

"You _did_ sense something. More than I did at any rate. Please calm down."

She was right. Panicking wouldn't do any good. _Think._

If they were taken from the cell then they'd have a chance to fight. If the Wardens came close enough, Solana could best them. He had no doubt.

"We should demand an audience, demand to see him."

"Cullen…"

He dropped his voice. "If we can arrange to be released from the cell, we can regain the upper hand. A coordinated attack. You could use magic to distract them, I-"

"Cullen." Solana halted him with a hand on his.

Maker, why did she always have to _argue_? He drew breath to express his annoyance, as she guided his hand up to her chest. Where he expected to feel the warmth of her flesh beneath her robes, he touched something cool and hard.

 _What?_

She tugged the neckline of her robes down a little. Metal glinted in the weak light. A thick band against her soft skin. It was a wide choker, wrapping around her neck from her breast bone to her throat. He recognised it immediately - a lyrium-infused choker. She moved her hair aside to reveal the heavy lock holding it in place. A regular Qunari-grade magic suppression device.

He knew its type well. He had seen them used by the Qunari in Kirkwall and he had even managed to purchase one himself, had taken it to Meredith as a possible "final resort". Kinder than Tranquility, he'd said. It had sat between them on her desk while they'd discussed the fate of mages.

And now it was his wife who was collared.

Was it the Maker's sense of humour to torture him this way? He could do nothing but stare at her.

Eventually she offered that small smile of hers. "I'm afraid I won't be much use in a fight."

"Does it hurt?"

 _'Will it hurt them?' he'd asked the trader._ _  
_ _'Does it matter? You want to keep people safe, don't you?'_

"Only if I misbehave," her mouth quirked.

 _'And you control them like this?' Cullen had waved the rod experimentally._ _  
_ _'Yeah,' the trader had said. 'We call it the lead.'_

A lead and collar. Like she was a dog. She squeezed his hand. "Perhaps we should wait for now. You don't look well. You should rest. Have something to eat."

Solana reached beside her and lifted a clay bowl to his lips. He drank the watery gruel hungrily, but as soon as it hit his stomach his insides spasmed. Saliva drenched his mouth and he knew he was going to be sick. He pushed Solana away, lurched towards the pail in the corner of the cell - but his stiff muscles wouldn't take him that far and he crashed to his knees, retching, just clear of the spot where he'd been lying.

The roaring in his ears and the sound of his stomach emptying drowned out Solana completely. When the heaving finally abated, he was aware of her hand on his back, her worried, pale face.

"I'm sorry," he managed.

She pulled away and he thought he had disgusted her. He was on his hands and knees, staring at his own sick. His arms began to shake with the effort of holding him up and he rolled over sideways, onto his back, before he could fall face-first into the contents of his stomach.

"Hello! My husband's ill! He needs a healer. Can you hear me?"

Solana was at the bars, shouting towards the light. She continued to yell. He willed himself back to sleep. When he'd been asleep he'd been unaware of the pain. It curled around his arms and legs like icy tentacles. They squeezed and his stomach heaved again. This wasn't like before. This was so much worse than before. So much worse that he wanted to believe the Wardens really had done something to him, but he knew the truth. He'd been taking too much. He'd upped his daily dose and even the half dose he'd been taking before he ran out was above what he'd been on as a Templar.

He was beyond elfroot, beyond what a healer might do. The only thing that could save him now was lyrium.

"Solana!"

She returned to his side. She mopped at his face with her sleeve and lifted his head into her lap. It was just like before, with the overdose. Her presence surrounding him like a cocoon of love and warmth. "Shh, it's going to be alright," she soothed.

He wanted to believe her, he wanted to believe that there was a way he could get through this without telling her the truth. She stroked his hair and bent to kiss his forehead, whispering reassurances.

They stayed like that for a long while, but the nausea didn't pass, the pain didn't ebb. By the time the Grey Wardens brought the next meal, he was a shivering wreck, drenched in sweat.

Solana sprang to the bars. "My husband is ill. Please, you have to give me something to help him. Elfroot, water. He's burning up."

If the Wardens said anything, Cullen didn't hear their response. She shouted after them again, but when no reply came, she returned to him and pressed her hand against his brow. He could hear from her ragged breathing that she was frightened. She was watching him deteriorate and didn't understand why. He had to tell her. He had no choice. After the fever came the madness. While he still had his sanity, he owed it to her to tell her the truth.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I tried to be strong. For you. For her."

"Cullen, shhh, it's okay." She pulled him into her lap again, wrapped him in her arms, pressed kisses to his aching temples.

He didn't deserve this sympathy. He'd done this to himself. Emotion welled in his chest, more painful and powerful than his resolve. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"This isn't your fault."

"It is, Solana. It… I have to tell you. Have to… confess."

She went very quiet.

"Confess?" she asked eventually and the confusion in her voice was enough to make him want to sound a retreat. Could she not guess? Were his symptoms not obvious?

His stomach clenched again, even though it was empty and there was nothing for it to expel. He whimpered despite himself. He wanted to curl up and drink in her love, her reassurance. She'd turn away when she knew. She'd be angry, disappointed.

 _Say it, stop being such a coward._

He pushed the word out from between his teeth. It took all the strength left in him to say.

"Lyrium."

One word that would change everything.


	100. Surviving

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: PLEASE READ_

 _This chapter is rated M for violence._

 _I tried to make sure all the hairy content for the entire story was in one chapter so more sensitive readers can skip it if need be. I've summarised everything that happens in the End Notes in as clinical a way as possible, so you can continue onto the next chapter without missing any info._

 _Trigger warnings for abuse, sexual assault, mention of rape and general blood and gore._

* * *

 _Lyrium._

The word sent ice shooting through Solana's core. She wanted to believe she'd misheard, but looking down at her husband's agonised face, she knew she hadn't.

He'd been taking lyrium again.

How long? Surely he hadn't been taking it while they'd been travelling? She'd been with him the entire time!

Although…

 _"_ _We should go through our packs, compare supplies, discard anything we don't need," she suggested.  
Cullen jerked. "That won't be necessary. We should take what we can carry." _

_"_ _How big a village?" he asked.  
"Not more than a settlement."_

 _No, we should press forward."_

 _"_ _No, I don't need a healer. It's the heat. Would you mind if I take the purse?"_

 _When he'd given the purse back to Solana, she'd found it considerably lighter._

And then lost in the forest for days, he'd certainly taken none. A memory came back of that morning she'd discovered the river's source, when she'd found him bent over their pack. The look on his face… it made sense now. He'd been taking lyrium the whole time and she hadn't known, and he hadn't felt he could tell her.

Wordlessly, she shifted his head from her lap and stood. She strode to the bars with purpose.

"We need help! We need lyrium," she called to the Wardens. "The mages must have lyrium. Just one potion, please."

A little way down the corridor, a pair of Wardens sat at a table playing a game of diamondback.

She rattled the bars. "He's a Templar. He needs lyrium or he'll die. Please!"

They didn't so much as glance in her direction.

"I can see you there, I know you hear me! Look at me!"

Still, no response.

She threw herself against the bars, so that her collar hit the metal and clanged incredibly loudly. It reverberated inside her head, bounced off the ceiling and the opposite wall, but she did it again and again and again and she knew she must look like a crazed mabari throwing itself against its cage.

"Shut up!"

Pain slammed into her throat, like being punched by a golem. She flew backwards as thousands of needles stabbed through her skin. She heard herself yelp but she could see nothing but white, could feel nothing but searing agony, could not move, could not think. Could not breathe. Her limbs spasmed, her teeth knocked together.

And then the pain was gone. She was curled up on the floor of the cell, near the bars, heaving in air, and a Grey Warden was staring down at her.

She moved experimentally. It didn't hurt, but her muscles were slow to respond. They felt weak.

The Warden was middle-aged and weather-beaten. He glared down at her, passing the baton that controlled her collar from hand to hand. "What in the Void's wrong with you?"

"Please, we need lyrium," she gasped.

He grunted and turned away again. He started walking back along the corridor but Solana shimmied up to the bars on her knees. "Please. Please, I'll do anything."

He paused.

It had worked in Loghain's prison, it might work here.

"Anything," she repeated to the Warden's back.

She rose slowly to her feet, ignoring the bitter bile that rose in her throat. She kept her eyes locked on the Warden as her fingers found the top button of her robes. He turned slowly as she unfastened the second button.

"Just one vial of lyrium potion and I will do anything you want."

"Solana…" Cullen whimpered. She wished he'd look away.

The Warden's eyes raked over her. He moved closer, but not close enough that she might try something. He had a wiry frame and his skin was tanned, with frown lines gouged into his forehead. He had a smattering of uneven stubble and small narrowed eyes.

"Corbin!" He called.

Another, younger, Warden appeared at the end of the corridor.

"Open the cell."

"Sir?"

"Do as I say. Open the cell, take hold of the Templar. Make sure he can't interrupt."

"Interrupt?" The Warden looked between him and Solana, then settled on her chest where she knew he could see the tops of her breasts.

"The lyrium first," she said.

The older Warden shook his head. "You take me for a fool? I know who you are. You fulfill your end, then we'll see about that lyrium."

"Do you even have lyrium?" He definitely wasn't a mage.

He smirked. "If you prefer, we can go away again?"

She looked to Cullen, lying flat with his chest rising and falling so rapidly. He was pallid, sweat-slick and his eyes, which stared at her now in horror, were wide and glassy. She didn't know when he'd last taken lyrium, but it was clear that this withdrawal was killing him. In the space of a few hours she'd seen him deteriorate so fast she didn't know how much longer he could last. Mage lyrium wouldn't be enough to set him right, but it could buy him some time.

She swallowed. "What do you want?"

Cullen gasped. "Solana, no!" She tried to ignore him.

"On your knees," the Warden said. "We'll start with that. Then maybe Corbin would like a go."

The younger Warden fidgeted with the key. "You sure this is alright?"

His companion snorted. "All right? They're our prisoners. Orders said watch them, nothing more. You don't want to be able to tell folks you've been with the Hero of Ferelden?"

He smiled at that, a sick smile, and Solana knew she'd be getting no help from this Corbin. She sank to her knees as he unlocked the cell. Her heart was pounding painfully, but she tried not to show her discomfort. _Be a good mage, be a pliant mage. Do as you're told._

Cullen thrashed as Corbin grabbed him and hauled him up by his underarms. "No, Solana, no!" But he was too weak to put up much of a fight. Corbin moved backwards until he was against the other wall, holding Cullen upright against his chest with one arm. A dagger glinted in his other hand.

He was going to make him watch.

 _It doesn't matter, as long as he lives._

When she'd escaped Loghain, this had been the point where she'd attacked the guard. She'd frozen him solid. But now she had no access to her magic, now she had to make peace with the fact that this wasn't some clever trick. She'd have to go through with it.

A sick churning in her stomach told her she couldn't possibly. But the rest of her stayed perfectly still. It was just a body, just a physical act. What did it matter if it saved Cullen?

The Warden came to stand before her. He kept hold of her lead with his right hand, and he fumbled to open his breeches with his left.

"You see, Corbin, what becomes of a mage without their powers. Not so fearsome now, eh?"

Her heart was loud in her ears but not quite loud enough to drown out Cullen's whimpering. Corbin told him to keep quiet, but he didn't.

 _It doesn't matter if it means he lives._

"There, now, be a good mage. If you're a very good mage I'll bring you the lyrium you seek. Oh, I know exactly where I can find some," the Warden crooned. He touched the back of her head.

It took everything in Solana not to turn away in disgust. _Just a physical act. Just a body. Do what needs to be done._

She fastened her eyes on his, because she didn't want to look at what was dangling in front of her face. "If you know where it is, why won't you help him?"

The Warden smiled down at her. "I much prefer this idea of yours. He's lucky to have such a dedicated wife. Now, open wide."

His left hand moved to his front, to hold himself for her. But as it passed his waist she saw something she hadn't noticed before. There was a dagger attached to his belt.

It didn't matter. Cullen was being threatened by a similar dagger. If she moved, he'd get hurt.

She opened her mouth obediently. Cullen howled and there were sounds of a scuffle behind her. The clink of metal against stone. She prayed it was the dagger as she made a split second decision. She slammed her head forward so that it hit the Warden in the groin. He screamed. Before he had a chance to use the control rod, she hooked her hands behind his ankles and pulled. He crashed to the ground. His head cracked against the stone and the lead skittered from his grip.

She climbed on top of him and pulled the dagger from his belt.

Corbin shouted some combination of, "No, what are you doing? Stop!"

But she was too quick. The Warden stared up at her, dazed from the impact of his head on the ground.

"You're no Grey Warden," she said. And she sliced his throat.

Blood. Bright scarlet blood. Blood soaking her hands and his armour as he gasped up at her. It bubbled in his mouth and she stared. She'd done that.

It wasn't the first time she'd killed, but it was the first time it had been so bloody. The only other time she'd been this close, she'd watched the life drain from her victim's face, it had been Jowan. This man had the same brown eyes. She gagged.

"No!" Corbin yelled.

Solana turned in time to see a sword swiping down at her head. She darted aside, thrust up with the dagger as he reached her. The first stab glanced off chainmail, but she knew Grey Warden armour well enough that the second did not miss. It slipped between the plate on his hips and the hauberk at his centre, landing just above his groin. He screamed as she broke skin and swiped for her head again with the sword. He threw himself off balance and she tackled him.

Mounted on top of him, she tried to stab down. He grabbed her wrist and twisted. She was so focused on keeping hold of the dagger that she didn't notice his other hand closing around her lead. Electricity shot through her, at least three times as potent as Chain Lightning. The dagger fell from her grip as her teeth slammed together. She tried to keep control of herself this time, but she froze up. The pain was relentless and all-consuming. It went on and on, wave after wave of fresh agony crashed through her, screams ripped from her throat and she could smell burning flesh and she couldn't breathe. Her neck felt like it was on fire and the muscles throughout her body went into spasm, individually convulsing, overloaded.

Something metal moved in the corner of her vision and then it smacked into Corbin's face. The pail. Cullen's boot slammed down on Corbin's wrist and he dropped the lead. Blessed relief. Solana folded forward, choking on air as she struggled to get it into her lungs. Cullen had the dagger. It flashed as he drove it down into Corbin's neck.

Blood fountained from the wound but her view was blocked by Cullen, who collapsed onto his knees beside her, who drew her into his arms. He was panting and trembling and small sounds came from his throat that she'd never heard before, that made it sound like he was weeping. She wrapped her arms around him, smearing blood across his back.

"We need to get you out of here," she said. "Can you walk?"

He pulled away and tried to straighten, but he yelped and clutched his side. His muscles seemed as uncooperative as hers had been moments before. "With assistance, perhaps."

He passed her the rod and she tucked it into his belt. She was shaky on her feet as she rose, but she tried not to let on as she wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

* * *

Samson stared at the sleeping form beside him, quiet and still in his old bed. He had cried himself to sleep like a child, and had woken up to _this_. Her blonde hair looked like a silver stream in the moonlight, her skin like delicate Orlesian china. The bed that they shared still smelled of smoke. He remembered her guiding him to it and holding him until the last of his energy left him. Now he felt empty and his face hurt, but he dared not sleep again.

Someone had called him here, and while it was likely that it was simply to trick him into leaving Skyhold, it was just as likely that that someone had left the sword for him to find and would still show themselves. It was his duty to keep watch.

Celeste's eyelids flickered as she journeyed the Fade. He dreaded her waking, now that she'd seen his core - a weak coward who made one irrational, self-defeating decision after another.

If he had been like this as a child, it was little wonder his parents had given him away. The first truly bad decision he could remember was delivering those Maker-forsaken letters, but he was sure there must have been others prior. There certainly had been many since. Like that time he'd tried to secure passage for fleeing mages and had instead ended up selling them to slavers. Or when Hawke's brother had been captured and, instead of staying to help, he'd slunk off to find Cullen, arriving too late to be of much use. Or that time with those sailors when they'd said they'd give him coin if he'd serve them for a day. They hadn't meant a day, they'd meant a _night_ and he should have _known_. And when it became clear what they wanted, he should have defended himself or ran, not gone through with it. But that would have required a backbone, something he'd never had.

Here, in this place, he'd once thought himself more, but it had been an illusion, just like the illusion that he could make Celeste and Ren happy. It had taken all of a few weeks for him to betray their trust. That's what he did, that's who he was.

So why would Maddox make that sword for _him_? If Tranquil were anything, they were logical, but there was no logic in this gift. Corypheus had seen to his practical needs. There was nothing this beautiful sword could do that _Certainty_ could not. And even if Samson were to believe a Tranquil capable of sentimentality - which was in itself a ridiculous notion - why would Maddox spend so much time and effort forging a gift for the person who'd ruined his life?

It didn't make sense. Just as it didn't make sense that Celeste was here after how he'd abandoned her.

He looked down at her again and found her staring up at him.

She lifted a pale hand and brushed his cheek, tracing down to his lips. His breath halted and every self-pitying thought flew from his mind. Her green eyes looked like shining serpentstone in the dim light.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said. Even though he didn't know how he could have.

"You look so sad." Her voice was low and soft. She raised herself up, still staring into his face. "Is there anything I can do?"

She swept his hair behind his ear and her fingers hovered at the nape of his neck. She was _touching_ him. _Tenderly._ His heart thundered. He shook his head.

Celeste rose up further. She looked so unearthly, so achingly beautiful that he wondered if he was dreaming.

Then he knew he must be, because she pressed her lips to his.

She pulled away quickly and his immediate instinct was to apologise, even though he knew the move had, inexplicably, been hers. "Sorry."

A beat passed. Celeste stared at him and he didn't know what to do. Then she cupped his cheek again, and there was no denying it, she kissed him. Her lips were warm and very soft. She tasted like summer peaches and he dared not move, dared not breathe lest he ruin this. His mind was a scattered mess, worse than in the throes of the Red, he couldn't grasp one coherent thought. She pulled away.

Her nose brushed against his, he felt her breath on his cheek. "Raleigh?" A tiny voice. Timid. Lost.

He didn't know what he was going to say until the words exited his mouth in a thin whisper. "You don't have to do this."

She couldn't truly wish to touch him. She'd made it clear that this would never happen. There was only one reason he could think of that it was happening now. She was trying to comfort him after witnessing his pitiful display and a part of him shouted _take that comfort, for Maker's sake. How long have you wanted this? How long have you wanted_ her? _You're not above a pity fuck. Take what you can get while you can get it._

But he couldn't make himself move.

Her fingers trailed through his hair again. He could hear her breathing. "I want to."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, _why_?" There was hurt in her voice.

If he kissed her again, if he let himself drown in her, would that make the hurt disappear? He swallowed, but he still couldn't move.

"Tomorrow…" Her other hand - the one that wasn't stroking his hair - curled into the front of his shirt. It fisted and unfisted as she fought some inner battle. "Tomorrow… this ends."

Yes, his mad quest ended with the dawn. They'd already agreed to that.

"I don't want to miss… I don't know when we'll next… if we'll ever..."

 _Oh._

Tomorrow they'd part and he'd likely be thrown into the dungeon for the rest of his days, if he was lucky. He'd accepted those consequences. He hadn't thought… of course he hadn't, he never did, did he? He'd made a sacrifice and hadn't considered that he was sacrificing her future too. It was a big thought. He could almost feel it pushing out everything else in his mind. _Her_ future. He hadn't ever dared consider himself a part of it and now… now it occurred to him that she might have.

How did he fix this? How did he make this better? What in the Void was he doing here? It hadn't even been worth it, it hadn't answered _anything_.

"Say something, Raleigh."

What? What did he say?

"Did I…" her voice went even smaller. "Did I do it wrong?"

 _It?_ _What 'it'? Kissing?_

"No, you didn't do anything wrong. 'Course you didn't. Maker, I never thought I'd feel that. Long as I lived I didn't dream…" _Stop babbling._ "Thing is, thing is Celeste, I don't want you to feel you have to do this because it's now or never. Because I ruined… because now you want to put an entire future into a night."

She expelled a shaky breath, dropped her head forward onto his shoulder.

He held her gently, grip loose enough that she could break away if she chose to. "You'll do much better than me. You'll see, Celeste. Someone you don't mind touching-"

"No."

The bite in the word made his insides jump. "No?"

"No. I won't." Her arms tightened around his waist possessively. "If you think I give up that easy, you don't know very much about me."

His heart skipped and his chest felt too small for it. He was too aware of his own arms around her. "But you said, tomorrow…"

She pulled away to look into his face again. "From tomorrow we'll likely be separated by bars once more, yes. But that doesn't mean I'm just going to go… going to find someone else. It will be like before. I'll bring you bread every day. And... maybe this time we can read together? I'm certain they'll let me bring books from the library and there are other things we can do, many that I haven't thought of yet. I've heard chess is an enjoyable game and-"

A swell of emotion drove his lips to hers. She stiffened for the merest instant and then her mouth responded. Desire washed over him. It buzzed up his spine and across his skin. He parted her lips with his tongue and let himself delve into her. He wanted to taste more of her, have her, _devour_ her. He wanted to give himself over completely, pleasure her in ways she'd never known. He broke the kiss to breathe, to trail his lips along her jaw, her neck… His hands moved, almost of their own accord, to the buttons at her throat that would give him access to more of her. He looked into her face for confirmation… her eyes were pressed closed.

She'd gone stiff again.

He hadn't even noticed, he'd been so lost in his own passion. How had he not realised that her breath was ragged and shallow, that her arms had gone loose around him?

He touched her cheek and she flinched.

"Celeste?"

It took a moment for her eyes to open, and when they did it wasn't the look of adoration he'd hoped for. Her pupils were large black circles. He'd seen fear up close often enough to recognise it.

"Don't…"

"I won't, I won't," he said quickly. He removed his hands from her so quickly she may as well have been burning hot. He'd forgot himself. He'd taken her back to _that_. "Sorry, I'm so sorry, please. I didn't…"

She grabbed his hand from the air, pressed it to her breast. "Don't stop."

Heat rushed through him, but a different kind from the desire he'd felt before. This was closer to shame. Another familiar feeling.

"I want you," she said. But her body said otherwise. Every part of her rigid, shrinking from him.

He removed his hand from her. "No, you don't."

"I do, Raleigh, I do. Please." Her body started shivering. It was at war with her words. "Please don't let... don't let him ruin this."

 _Him._ Samson didn't know what he was supposed to do, but he knew he had to do _something_. Mimicking what she'd done earlier to comfort him, he gathered her into his arms. Her fingers fisted in his shirt again as she repeated her pleas in an increasingly small voice. "Shhh…" he pressed his lips to the top of her head. "It's all right. We're not going to do anything. Not tonight. Shh…"

Eventually she stilled, her face buried in a pool of shadow, tucked against his chest. He thought she might have fallen asleep until she swore. "I killed him. Ten years ago. I tore him limb from limb. He was scattered across a corridor, Raleigh. You can not imagine a more gruesome death. How does he still control me? Ten years..."

He stroked her hair and tried to find useful words. "How many times have you tried this before. Since then, I mean?"

"I… I haven't."

It was hardly a surprise, given her reaction that day on the battlements. "There you go. It hasn't been ten years, not really. You had this part of you locked away, didn't ya?"

"I suppose."

He let the silence sink in around them. There was something about this shrine that seemed to amplify the silence. Void, it probably did exactly that. It was a shrine to the god of silence, wasn't it?

"Sometimes I feel like an abomination," Celeste said. "They told us so many times that it would happen to us if we tried blood magic. But that's not when it happened. It happened long before. It's like… he lives inside me now. He's always there, in my mind, judging me, threatening me. Maybe he will continue to live as long as I do. Like Justice lives in Anders."

Samson tightened his grip around her. "You're not an abomination."

"You don't understand."

"Maybe not. But I know that he's not you. You are the kindest, bravest, most generous person I know. That's the truth. You watched out for me when everyone else wanted me dead. You're the one who cared for the Hero, and that baby of hers, after that mess that was her birth. And you did everything you could to save the both of them. And here you are, chasing after me when everyone knows I don't deserve it. He lives in your memory maybe, but he's not a part of you. Never was. I don't need to understand to know that. I know you. That's enough." He kissed her forehead again because he dared not kiss her lips.

She pressed herself to him and he didn't know whether she believed him or not, but she said no more.

He wanted to tell her he loved her. He'd said it before, in that letter, but the the words stuck in his throat. He'd never said them out loud and he was too much of a coward to speak them into this silence. It was enough that she was curled against him, that she wanted him. _No need to complicate things further._

* * *

Cullen gasped as a shock of pain blazed up his side. His sensitive skin screamed as he slammed against the wall, momentarily crippled by the latest spasm.

"Cullen!" Solana was quiet, but what alarm didn't carry in her voice showed in her bright green eyes. She rushed back to his side. She'd been checking ahead. All that had been required of him was to stand and wait for her. He hadn't even managed that.

Much time had passed since they'd left their cell, but they'd covered hardly any distance.

"Solana, listen."

"No."

He gritted his teeth through another spasm. The corridor around them expanded and contracted as if it was painted on canvas. Hallucinations. There wasn't long left now.

"Solana, you need to leave me."

"No." She hefted his arm across her shoulders again, but he made himself dead weight. She could argue all she liked but the fact of the matter was…

"Solana, I'm dying. You need to leave me so you can get out of here -"

"No."

"Listen to me. Alise needs you."

"She needs you too." Solana's jaw was set and he saw the strain in her muscles as she tried to pull him up. "I'm not leaving you, Cullen. I'm not-"

" _Think_ , Solana." A wave of nausea crashed down on him. The edges of his vision blurred and he thought he might be sick, right there on top of her. He swallowed, and swallowed again. He needed to make his point. "If we both die here… if we both die… we accomplish nothing. Go back to Leliana. Tell her about this pl… this place."

"I don't care about _accomplishing_ anything." She faced him, giving up on trying to pull him to his feet. "You are my husband. I am not leaving you."

"You are so... stubborn." He lacked the energy for anger. She went translucent before him and he had to squint to see her. All that remained was red hair and red blood, streaked across her hands and her body.

She shook him and every movement was fresh agony. He cried out, despite himself, and she finally stopped. And then she was tugging on his arm again, growling obscenities.

Naturally she was as headstrong as ever. It was clear the only way to get her to move forward was to go with her. He let her pull him to standing. She made appreciative noises as he moved one foot forward, then the other.

He wouldn't live to the end of the corridor. He was almost certain of that. Liquid fire burned in his veins and reality twisted around them. But getting her to safety was important and if the only way to make her leave was to die, then he'd oblige.

Cullen focused ahead and forced his body to move, every step felt like a battle for his soul. He bit into his tongue to keep silent. He bit so hard that metallic blood filled his mouth. But his will was only so strong. Two steps, maybe three, and then his legs would no longer hold him. He collapsed forward onto his knees, the impact sending a new layer of flame up through him.

"Cullen! Cullen no!"

Was it his imagination or did he hear footsteps? Solana looked towards the end of the corridor. She must have heard it too. Yes, hurried footfalls drawing nearer. She turned back to him.

"We need to hide."

She looked around wildly. She must have seen some kind of cover because she began trying to pull him to his feet again, but much as he willed himself to move he could not. It felt like the ground itself was sucking him down, like his limbs had become exponentially heavy. He couldn't even find the strength to ask her, once again, to leave him.

The tugging stopped. Solana went still. He managed to lift his gaze, to see what had halted her efforts.

There, at the end of the corridor, frozen in obvious surprise, was Anders.

Someone asked a question that Cullen didn't hear beyond the throbbing of his own heart. Another figure joined him. Nathaniel.

"Well, isn't this a surprise," Nathaniel said.

* * *

 _SUMMARY OF THE CHAPTER_

 _Solana is shocked to learn that Cullen's taking lyrium again. She calls for help and when their jailers ignore her, she throws herself against the bars so that her collar clangs against them and causes a racket. The Warden guard uses the collar to subdue her, but she has their attention. She offers to do absolutely anything they want in exchange for lyrium and undoes the top buttons of her robe to hint at her meaning (this "seduce the guard" technique worked for her in Loghain's prison). She knows that this time she'd have to go through with it because she doesn't have magic to protect herself, but she is willing to to save Cullen who she calculates to be very near death._

 _There are two Warden guards. The older is immediately interested and makes her kneel before him and taunts her. She suspects he may not even have lyrium, but wants to take advantage of a powerful mage and say that he's done sexual acts with the Hero of Ferelden. She's out of her depth. She hopes the younger will have sympathy but he doesn't. At the very last minute, she notices a dagger on the older Warden's waist._

 _When she hears signs of struggle from Cullen who's being held back by the younger Warden, she manages to grab the dagger and slice the older Warden's throat. A battle with the younger Warden ensues. He uses the collar to try subdue her, but Cullen manages to find the strength to smack him over the head with a pail and stab him._

 _They take the control rod for her collar and escape the cell._

 _Meanwhile Samson watches Celeste sleep. He's ashamed of his earlier breakdown and believes Celeste will lose all interest in him now she knows how he's a "weak coward who makes one irrational, self-defeating decision after another". He reflects on incidents in his past: the letters, some events we saw in DA2 and a night in Kirkwall when he was paid to "serve" some sailors and didn't realise he was prostituting himself until too late and he blames himself for not realising, and for not fighting them off when their intentions became clear. He felt like someone worthy as Corypheus's general, but he realises now that it was an illusion, as was the idea that he could make Celeste and Ren happy._

 _But Celeste wakes up and sees his expression and kisses him. They share some tender minutes, during which she confesses that she still wants to be with Samson even if they're separated by bars. They become increasingly passionate, but she locks up before things get very far. She wants to push through, lamenting that she feels like an abomination possessed by her abuser, but Samson refuses to continue until she's comfortable, which he assures her will come in time. They fall asleep cuddling._

 _Cullen and Solana struggle up a corridor away from the Warden dungeon. Cullen is weak and spasming and starting to hallucinate. He begs Solana to leave him and save herself. She refuses. They hear footsteps coming. There's no time to hide._

 _Anders and Nathaniel appear together at the other end of the corridor._


	101. The Truth

Samson jerked awake.

He wasn't sure what had woken him. He looked around the chamber, seeing nothing but the same familiar shapes illuminated by the wall sconces. He shouldn't have fallen asleep again. He was _supposed_ to keep watch. But Celeste had been in his arms and holding her had felt so _right_ and so wonderful, he must have drifted off.

He climbed carefully off the bed, glancing at her. It wouldn't hurt to check around. He retrieved the sword from where he'd set it on Maddox's workbench earlier and stepped towards the door.

A shadow moved. He turned towards it, sword bared.

There was a mage standing by the bed.

He had slick black hair ( _Tevinter?_ ) and pallid skin ( _or Circle?_ ). It didn't matter. What mattered that he was closer to Celeste than Samson was, and he held an old dinged staff in his hand.

"Hello Samson," he said.

His voice seemed to be absorbed by the walls. Celeste didn't so much as stir.

"Do I know you?" Samson asked. His heart raced, but he dared not move while that mage was so close to Celeste.

The man shrugged and looked down at her sleeping form. "It hardly matters, we're just mages."

 _We_? Plural? Did he mean Celeste?

Her eyes flickered open. She stared straight up at him. Samson heard her intake of breath as she sat. She summoned fire to her palm, the way she'd shown him before.

"That's unnecessary," the mage said.

Beside him, two other mages melted out of the shadows. How did they _do_ that?

"We're not here to hurt anyone, we've been sent as an escort."

Could these be the nightingale's agents? Here to take him back to Skyhold? A dramatic entrance to say the least, but he hoped that was the case. Then Celeste was not in danger.

"I'll go with you," Samson said.

"They're not here for you." Celeste's eyes met the lead mage's. Had she recognised him? Samson's grip tightened on his sword. What could they want with her?

The lead mage inclined his head.

"We were told you got a little lost on your way," a voice spoke behind Samson. He spun. Another mage had been standing right across Maddox's workbench and he hadn't seen him. This one held a limp body against his chest. The body wore the colours of the Inquisition. Its head lolled forward, showing black hair and pointed ears. The mage dropped it. The body landed with a thud on the tiled floor.

Samson would put coin on _that_ being his escort.

"Maker," Celeste said. She'd paled and she snuffed the flame in her palm. "What do you want of me?"

Instead of answering, the mage sang. "Enchanter come to me, enchanter come to see." He grinned. "As you once were blind in the light now you can see. In our strength we can rely and history will not repeat."

Celeste swallowed. " _You_ brought Samson here. You knew I'd follow."

The mage inclined his head again.

"What!" If what they were saying was true, he'd led Celeste into this trap. Whatever was happening was his fault. He needed to understand it. Was this to do with Anders?

The mage ignored him. "It is not far from here. Once you have seen for yourself what we are building, you will stay and help us. We cannot allow the Circles to return. You of all people should know that."

Celeste nodded. She rose slowly, as if to not startle the mages. "I will come with you on one condition."

The mage smiled again, "You wish no harm to come to Ser Samson."

"Yes."

"Fear not. The Grand Enchanter instructed us to bring him too."

* * *

In the shadowy corridor, Solana couldn't see Anders' eyes, couldn't see if she was speaking to Justice, or his host.

She was his prisoner. She'd killed his guards. The evidence was all over her hands, her chest, her hair. Why he'd show her mercy, she couldn't guess.

"Please…" The word slipped through her lips regardless.

It was all she could think and all she could feel. Cullen was a dead weight, head hung low, and she didn't even know if he was still conscious.

Anders surged forward and Solana was powerless to do anything but flinch back. He fell to his knees and reached for Cullen. "What happened?"

She couldn't even cast a barrier to protect her husband. "He needs lyrium. Please?"

Anders looked up at her. His eyes were brown. Human. "Lyrium?"

Nathaniel stood behind Anders with his arms folded and his brow furrowed. "Well, he's a Templar, is he not?" She wanted to set his balls on fire.

"I thought he gave up all of that?" Anders asked Solana.

Perhaps he wasn't as cruel as his Wardens. Perhaps he would have ensured they were given a supply of lyrium if he'd known. She shook her head.

Anders felt around Cullen's neck. It lolled disconcertingly and Solana didn't want to think what that might mean. He'd definitely lost consciousness.

"There isn't much time," Anders said.

"I'll tell you anything. I'll do anything. Please save him."

He looked at her in clear confusion. "What?"

"I told you," Nathaniel said. "They think you're responsible for this mess."

Anders blinked. "What? Still?"

"Evidently."

Solana searched his face. She saw no trace of what she'd expected - a power-hungry mage, a man who'd lost control, a desperate spirit. His features were gentle as she remembered them being.

"Nathaniel, help me," he ordered. "We need to get him out of here. Solana, can you walk?"

 _Out of here?_ She nodded.

"Out of here?" Nathaniel echoed her thoughts. "You can't be serious?"

Anders hefted one of Cullen's arms around his shoulder. "Nathaniel!"

"Can't you just heal him and send him on his way?"

"It's withdrawal. He needs lyrium, not spirits. I have some potions in the cottage, but we need to hurry."

Nathaniel came forward obediently to take the other arm. They hefted Cullen up and he sagged between them.

"You realise this may be our last chance," Nathaniel muttered.

"It won't be. We have a few days."

"I hope you're right."

They moved forward and Solana drifted after them. She was tired and scared and what they were saying made no sense. Why was Anders carrying Cullen instead of calling for help? What _cottage_? Cullen said Justice had taken over, but this was definitely not Justice.

Unless everyone had been wrong.

 _Leliana_ had been wrong.

Anders had nothing to do with what was going on here.

"'Bout time you - who's that?" A voice sounded at the other end of the corridor and Solana's stomach dropped.

"Change of plans," Nathaniel answered it.

"Ahh, piss on a stick."

 _Wait…_ she knew that voice. It had been over a decade but she was certain…

She peered around Anders and sure enough, there, at the end of the corridor, wearing Grey Warden armour and a sour expression…

"Oghren?"

The dwarf's bushy eyebrows shot up and he started laughing. "Well I never. Solana, that really you?"

"It's really her," Anders confirmed. "Scout ahead, we need to make a swift exit. Tell Velanna we'll need a wagon."

"A wagon?" He gaped at Anders with that same not-quite-sober look he'd often given Solana at her orders.

"Go!"

"Alright, alright." He held his hands up and backed away, disappearing down the corridor.

Was she hallucinating? Or dreaming? Solana looked up at the ceiling. Grey stone, not the green of the Fade. "I don't understand. He… We… Is he a Warden?"

"Yes, he's a Warden," Nathaniel confirmed. "We're all Wardens here. Except, of course, for yourself. And your dear husband. And the mages upstairs."

"Mages upstairs?"

"Oh, you don't know about those yet?"

"Not now, Nathaniel," Anders instructed.

Nathaniel fell silent, once again taking Anders's orders without question. This wasn't Justice, but it wasn't entirely Anders as Solana had known him either. Before, he'd been quiet and obedient, following Fiona's instructions or following Hawke like a devoted puppy. Now he led.

They wove down corridors, turning seemingly at random. They did not encounter any more Wardens and eventually they came to a large crack in the wall. Nathaniel slipped out first, and then he and Anders maneuvered Cullen through. When Solana followed, she was surprised to feel a cool breeze on her face. They were outside. It was night time and the air smelled like forest.

"And I suppose you'd like me to produce a prize nug from thin air?" a cold female voice asked. Solana couldn't see who was speaking.

"Did you get the cart?"

"Of course. But they will notice its absence."

Anders didn't respond. Solana could just make out his pauldrons ahead of her as he and Nathaniel carried Cullen forward. She nearly tripped over a tree root. Someone caught her arm.

"Hey Sol," Oghren said at her elbow. "I, eh, you're covered in blood."

She almost laughed. "I suppose few things change?"

"Heh."

Oghren guided her after the others. They walked a short distance through trees and bushes, then there was a different kind of movement ahead. The shape that Solana knew to be Cullen was lifted. She could make out the vague outlines of something square in front of them.

"Wait, I need to go with him." She plunged forward, whacking her shins against the cart.

"Easy." Anders took her arm and helped her up. She crawled, feeling her way along Cullen's body to his head. Desperately, she felt for his pulse. It was weak, but it was there. She heard someone else climb in after her.

Gentle hands took hers. "Are _you_ hurt?" Anders asked.

Her neck still stung from when Corbin had used the collar on her. It was a constant burning pain, but it was bearable and certainly not worth Anders wasting mana on. "No."

Someone else scrambled into the cart with them. "You sure?" Oghren asked beside her. "Yer got blood all over yer."

"She's the Hero, she's fine," Anders said softly. There was a smile in his voice. It was lightly teasing.

Oghren snorted as the cart started to move. "I could tell you stories. This one time, in the Denerim's alienage-"

"Hey, quiet." Nathaniel's voice came from up front.

The cart moved, somehow, through the forest in the dark. The only sound was the occasional whicker of a horse. After a time that Solana could not measure, it drew to a halt.

"We have to take the rest by foot," the female voice spoke.

"Alright," Anders said. "Solana, can you cast that willpower spell on him? The one you taught Haven's mages? It should make him easier to carry through the trees."

He didn't know about the collar. What with the blood, and Cullen, he must not have seen it.

"Solana?"

"No, sorry, I… can't."

A small light flickered ahead of her. Anders had lit his staff, just enough so she could see his face. "Can't?"

She swallowed and pulled down the neck of her robes to show him. His eyes widened. "That's a… I've seen those before, in Kirkwall. What in the Void is Fiona doing with those?"

"Fiona?"

"What is it?" the woman asked.

Anders brushed Solana's hair aside to get a better look, but she pushed his hands away. "It doesn't matter. Cullen."

"Right. We'll carry him. It's not far."

It may not have been far, but it felt far. It felt like that night lost in the forest, pushing through trees packed together so tightly that they almost couldn't fit, stepping over roots and getting caught up in branches. Solana's heart pounded louder with every step. This was taking too much _time_!

Eventually they pressed through the trees into a glade. A small wooden cottage with a half-collapsed roof sat in the middle, in a ring of warm light. She could have cried with relief.

The woman went first. As the light fell over her, Solana saw by the curve of her ears that she was an elf. She didn't wear the uniform of her companions, but her leathers were dyed the blue and grey of the Wardens. A staff on her back revealed her to be a mage. She started drawing patterns in the air. She must have been taking down wards. Anders and Nathaniel carried Cullen inside after her.

The warm light of a fire within bathed the front porch, and as they entered the cottage a man who'd been sitting at a small wooden table by that fire jumped to his feet, knocking his stool halfway across the small room.

"What happened? Is that Knight Captain Cullen?!"

He was human with the build of a soldier. He had dark, close-cropped hair and an arm in a sling. His blue eyes slid to Solana as she entered.

"Velanna, bring the spare potions. All of them," Anders ordered. "Carver, meet your cousin, Solana."

 _Cousin?_ Now the man was openly gaping at her, but he could wait. She followed Anders and Nathaniel into an adjoining room. It was dark but for a sliver of moonlight spilling onto a double bed from beneath broken shutters. They set Cullen down and she tried to go to him, but her path was blocked by Nathaniel. He grabbed her upper arms and pushed her backwards towards the door.

"Let go of me! He needs me!"

"No, he needs Anders."

She tried to pull herself free, but Nathaniel's grip was as tight as the collar around her neck, and thanks to its effects she couldn't even force him to let go by setting him on fire or turning him to ice. A sob escaped her as she realised just how powerless she was now. These were the same strong arms that had tried to suffocate her, and this time there was nothing she could do to fight him.

"Look." Nathaniel's tone was surprisingly gentle. "Anders is an accomplished healer. If anyone can save him, he can. But you need to give him space and let him focus."

"Why are you helping us?" Her voice came out much smaller than she would have liked.

He continued to guide her backwards until they were standing in the doorway of the room. In the light, she could see his expression and it, too, was surprisingly gentle. His mouth quirked up at the corner - much more familiar - and he sighed. "I did offer to help you back in the town."

"And then you stole our map."

"Well, you managed to find the Wardens without it, so I'd say I needed it more than you did."

The elven woman, Velanna, pushed past them, arms laden with potions. She shot a look at Solana, that then moved quickly to Nathaniel, and then to the hands that were holding her in place. But she disappeared into the room without saying anything.

"Ey, Sol! Bet a drink would do yer good?" Oghren said behind her. She turned to find him sitting at the table with the other man. He waved a bottle of ale in her direction.

Sh _e could_ use a drink, but she didn't want to be out here. She wanted to be with Cullen. She tried to get a look around Nathaniel, see how he was doing, but she couldn't see anything.

"Go on," Nathaniel said. "Carver will fetch you some water to clean up."

 _Carver. Of course._ The name hadn't registered before.

She went reluctantly to the table, and Nathaniel disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

"You're Hawke's brother?" Solana asked.

"Great, my favourite way of being introduced," Carver said, sarcastically. "Yes. And who would you be, then?"

"Watch yerself, kid, yer addressing the Hero of Ferelden." Oghren snort-laughed into his drink.

Carver scowled. "Anders said you're my cousin?"

"I am," she offered awkwardly. What did she say? That she was the daughter of Revka Amell and the man who'd murdered his mother? "You don't talk to your brother at all, then?"

"Not if I can help it. I take it you've met him? Is he still as obnoxious? Anders won't speak of him." Beneath the obvious distaste, Solana sensed true curiosity. Family really was _complicated_.

Oghren passed her the bottle and she took a long drink. The alcohol was bitter and harsh at the back of her parched throat, but welcome. Carver was still looking at her expectantly when she came up for air.

"Well, I'm not really in his good books at the moment."

Carver grunted. "Welcome to the club." He reached for the ale. "What did you do?"

 _Demon possession, blood magic, reminded him of the man who killed your mother._

"He didn't approve of something I did. We had an argument."

"Hawke doesn't approve, well perhaps we are family after all." Carver smiled, and shook his head. "What are you even doing here? Do I want to know who you killed?"

She'd have to admit sooner or later that they'd come looking for Anders. She was pretty certain now that they'd been wrong about him, and that she was safe. They wouldn't have called off whatever mission they were on to save Cullen if they meant her harm. She raked a hand through her hair, discovered it clumped together with blood. Yes, exactly like old times. "Nathaniel said something about water?"

Carver rose to bring her a basin and she began to tell them everything. She tried to imagine the blood to be that of darkspawn as she pulled it from her hair and as she scrubbed under her nails. Nathaniel came in half way through her explanation and at her desperate look said only, "He's stable. Sleeping."

She continued with her tale. Nathaniel interjected when she reached the part where he'd tried to kill her, insisting that he hadn't tried very hard and it had been a matter of honour more than anything.

"I thought your father was a tosser?" Carver asked.

Nathaniel shrugged. "He was. But he was still my father."

Oghren grumbled into his drink and Solana knew he was remembering what they'd found in Howe's torture chamber.

After that, Nathaniel let her tell the rest of the story without interruption. When she was done, Carver shook his head. "Wow, I thought the Inquisition was supposed to be clever."

It was humiliating being wrong, and she knew that in general the Inquisition _was_ right… wasn't it? She was too tired to argue. "Alright then, what's really going on?"

Nathaniel sauntered around the table to take the ale bottle - now the third - from Oghren. "Anders didn't take the phylacteries. Enchanter Fiona did. When he realised what she'd done, he followed her."

"Why? Why didn't he go to the Inquisition?"

"Because I wasn't entirely blameless," Anders said from the bedroom doorway. He closed the door gently behind him and came into the room. "You see, I let my curiosity get the better of me. After we discovered your wards, I started trying to figure out how to bring them down. I only wanted a peek. What treasure had the queen sent the Inquisition? It came out that Fiona was attempting the same. So we worked together. Alone we didn't have enough power. But together, with help from Justice, it was doable."

"I'm surprised you didn't break the phylacteries when you saw them."

He chuckled. "To be honest? Me too. In retrospect, I should have." He scratched at his temple. "At the time all I could think was how Hawke would react if I brought more trouble down on us. Can you picture it? The queen _and_ the Chantry. I'm all for a good dust-up, but that might be a little ridiculous." He folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "Anyway, Fiona and I _both_ agreed to leave them. We agreed that we'd put up your ward again. Just as it was. Only one of us was lying."

"She went back for the phylacteries?" Solana guessed.

"Right you are. You know, I had a bad feeling. This was after your thing with the… and the…" He waved at the air. She appreciated how he avoided mentioning exactly what they'd done in front of the others. "I hadn't heard from her in a few days. Now, since you'd solved the problem we were working on, it was not entirely unexpected. But usually, she liked to keep an eye on me. I don't think she ever truly trusted me. She'd _appear_ around the place. Like a sodding Templar. When she didn't show her face for a couple of days, I grew nervous and I went to check the phylacteries and, well, I found what you did. Which is to say, nothing."

"And you followed her here? Where do the rest of you come in?"

Nathaniel placed the ale back in the middle of the table, where Oghren, naturally, grabbed it. "Well, I followed you, they followed me."

She gave him a look that she hoped said _that's ridiculous._

"We thought Anders was dead," Oghren chimed in. "We saw the body an' everything."

Anders stared at his feet. "Yes, well, I may have faked my own death to escape the Wardens."

"That's not why you did it," Nathaniel said, in that gentle voice he'd used with Solana before.

"He did it for luuuurve." Oghren's voice went singsong and he laughed as if the entire situation was the funniest thing.

Anders strode across the room and wrested the bottle from him. "If I'm going to be explaining myself all night, at least give me a drink, will you?"

This only made Oghren laugh louder as Anders finished off the bottle.

Then he knelt opposite Solana and brushed the hair away from her neck again. "I'm assuming you're not going to use your powers to murder us all in our sleep?"

She couldn't resist a pointed look at Nathaniel over Anders's shoulder. "No."

He had the decency to avoid her gaze.

Anders fiddled with the lock a little, then called Nathaniel over. He, too, dropped to his knees and Anders moved aside so he could get a proper look at the mechanism.

Solana did not like having Nathaniel so close to her. Especially when Anders explained that he'd known such collars to have 'kill switches' sometimes, that drove a piece of metal into a mage's throat if she tried to escape.

"Seven," Nathaniel said softly. His mouth was very near her ear as he worked at the lock, so she knew the word was for her benefit.

"What?" Her heart fluttered. This wasn't how she wanted to die. How would they explain it to Cullen?

"The number of opportunities I've had to kill you, and haven't." He pulled away a little so she could see his face. He smiled at her.

Something clicked and she closed her eyes. Then, a spear of scalding pain so intense she screamed.

Anders pushed Nathaniel out of the way. "What did you do? What happened?"

"Nothing! The collar is loose. Look!"

Solana gulped in air. Her eyes watered, the pain was so severe. Oghren and Carver were on their feet, demanding to know whether Nathaniel had murdered the Hero of Ferelden. She half expected Oghren to jump him.

Anders moved the collar and another wave of pain crashed down on her.

"Ah, I see," he said with surprising calm.

Her vision blurred. "Kill switch?"

"No. Not that. You said you weren't in pain before."

That wasn't what she'd said. She'd said she wasn't injured.

"Solana, your neck… they used this thing on you? Did they torture you?"

Nathaniel sucked in air as he leaned in to look at the damage. "Is that - it looks like it's grafted itself to her skin."

Even Oghren made a disgusted noise at that. Carver came closer to get a good look.

"It's my own fault." She was in too much pain to go into details. "Can you do anything?"

Anders nodded. "Of course. It might take a while, and it's going to hurt." He moved the collar a little and she shrieked. Some hero she was proving herself to be. His magic swept over her. Comforting, intoxicating, pure relief. He pulled at the collar again and this time the pain wasn't quite as bad, although it was bad enough that she had to clench her teeth. She dug her fingers into the bottom of her seat. He pulled again. Pull, heal. Pull, heal.

"You wanted to know about me faking my death," Anders said, calmly. "Short version is, darkspawn were invading Amaranthine. There wasn't much of an army after the Blight, so the Warden Commander took Nathaniel, Oghren and Velanna to the city to try help. I was left behind with a few others to keep the home fires burning. The darkspawn decided to attack the Keep too. We were overrun. Everyone died."

 _Pull._

"Except you?" Solana prompted through the pain.

 _Heal._

"No, including me. But what the darkspawn didn't know was that one of our companions was a spirit inhabiting a corpse. I was fighting at his side when they took me down. He knew that he could save me by switching over to _my_ body instead."

"Justice," Solana breathed. She'd never heard the story of how he'd ended up with Justice.

He nodded. _Pull._ "What neither of us counted on was the effect that my experience and emotions would have on him. Once he had access to my memories, he saw Karl."

Solana remembered Anders mentioning Karl before, at Kinloch.

 _Heal._ "I had witnessed much injustice, but for some reason Karl's transfer burned brightest. I was halfway to Kirkwall before I knew it, intent on rescuing him. And, well, you know the rest."

"We returned from Amaranthine to a massacre," Nathaniel said. "One burnt and broken corpse was very like another. Anders had dressed Justice's old host in his clothes and we didn't know better."

"That much I can understand." Solana hissed as Anders tugged the collar, a little more aggressively than before. "But how did you not know about the Chantry? The rebellion?"

Nathaniel smirked. "You weren't far wrong before when you asked if I'd been under a rock. We were in the Deep Roads, investigating the Red Lyrium your cousins let loose."

"That's where you came in?" Solana asked Carver, who was still keenly watching Anders's progress with the collar. "You discovered that thaig with Hawke, didn't you?"

"That's right." Carver looked a little sheepish. "The darkspawn didn't make it easy to go back. Amazing how many can appear within the space of a year. We had to fight our way down. Multiple times. We dared not take too many samples up at once. Didn't want to go crazy like Bartrand."

Varric's brother. She'd heard the story.

"Or Meredith," Anders added. "Not that they knew about her at that stage. By the time they came up, Hawke and I were long gone and they somehow managed to not hear about our dashing exploits. At least not with our names attached to them."

"Dashing. Yeah, right." Carver shook his head.

Nathaniel played with an empty ale bottle. "The first time I heard Anders's name since Vigil's Keep was a few weeks ago when someone asked me if I knew where he was. I thought, when we met, that you had sent the woman to bait me. I suspected you were involved in all of this. Wardens disappearing. Mages involved. Who else to be at the centre than the Hero of Ferelden?"

She hadn't thought of it that way. "What woman?"

"Isabella," Anders provided. "A friend from Kirkwall. Hawke must have sent her to look for me."

"Well killing me wasn't a very sound strategy for finding out more."

Another aggressive tug at the collar left Solana gasping, but this time it came off in Anders's hands. He brushed his fingers across her neck, trailing warmth and relief. "There."

And just like that, the pain was gone. She lifted her hand and called fire into her palm. It blazed bright as ever. She was herself.

"You saved me once again," she said. "Thank you hardly seems adequate at this point. Especially since…"

"Since you were coming here to kill me?" Humour danced in his eyes, but she still felt ashamed.

The bedroom door opened and Velanna stuck her head out. "He's moaning. What should I do?"


	102. Enrage

This time, Solana was permitted to enter the bedroom.

Cullen lay under a quilt, shirtless. Beads of sweat stood out against his brow, illuminated by a single candle beside the bed. He threw his head from side to side, as if in the grip of a nightmare.

Anders took a bottle from the nightstand and steadied Cullen's head. He dripped potion into his mouth, one glowing blue drop at a time. "It's mage-grade," he said softly. "Not quite as much as he needs, but it should allow him to coast this out. Do you know how much he's been taking?"

Solana was forced to admit she did not.

"Alright, well, we'll have to be cautious. Last thing he needs is an overdose." He set the bottle aside and stared at it absently.

Solana gripped Cullen's limp hand. She hoped he could feel her presence. Beyond the door there was laughter and a loud discussion that Solana could only catch odd words of.

"What is Fiona doing with the phylacteries?" she asked Anders.

Away from his companions, he looked more like the man she knew. His face was drawn and he rubbed his eyes.

When he spoke, he spoke into his lap. "Our mission tonight was going to be reconnaissance… I don't believe we have the full picture of what's going on here."

"Well, what do you have?"

"I've been watching this… operation… for some time now. Wardens, mages. That alone might be cause for concern given recent history. But there's more. When Nathaniel and the others arrived, we sent Carver in as a - well, as a spy. He was..." Anders glanced at the door as if to make sure they were still alone. "He was tortured."

"Tortured!"

Anders waved a hand to keep Solana's voice down. "They didn't put a collar on him, but they did run electricity through him, same as you. He can't say why. He thought maybe they were testing his tolerance. More concerning though: they drew his blood."

"Blood? She's performing blood magic?"

"No. Well, I don't know. From what he's said it sounds more like… well…"

"Anders."

"Experiments. It sounds like experiments. It sounds like the mages would subject the Wardens to lightning, pain, potions, a variety of _tests_ , and then take samples of their blood after. Not unlike... "

"Samson." A rush of cold flooded Solana. She gripped Cullen's hand tighter. "And the Wardens came to her willingly, because she said she'd cure them of the Taint. But she's what? Torturing them to find a cure for the Blight? And where do the mages come in? How did she get them to agree to this?"

Anders waved for her to calm down again. Of course, it wouldn't do for the others to learn that the two of them had aided Fiona with her initial experiments. "I have two theories, but you're not going to like them."

"I don't like any of this so far."

"Fair enough. Alright. You were asking about the phylacteries…"

A chill raced up Solana's spine. "Andraste. She's got control of the mages."

"Not necessarily. As I mentioned, I've been watching for a while. I haven't seen anyone freshly harrowed or particularly desperate looking. So, I suspect that these are members of Fiona's mage rebellion. Carefully selected. Not controlled by the phylacteries, but perhaps summoned by them."

That was slightly less chilling, but it still didn't explain why. Unless Fiona was beyond reason. Unless her desperation to cure the Blight had her torturing Wardens en masse.

Cullen groaned. Anders placed a hand on his forehead and it glowed blue. "So that's the one theory. She needed a workforce, and the phylacteries helped her obtain it."

Cullen stilled again.

"And the other?" Solana asked, although the grave look Anders gave her made her stomach tighten with dread. Did she really want to know?

"Fiona knows what you did. To cure Alise, and yourself. I haven't told the others, but… such a ritual would require mages."

"No," Solana said automatically. "No. She wouldn't do that."

"She has Wardens who wish to be cured…"

"But she's collecting their blood. She wouldn't if she intended to… No. She can't mean to possess them. She can't. She wouldn't do something so... so irresponsible. She knows the risks."

Anders met her gaze. "How many would say the same about you?"

"That's _different_. Alise is my _child_."

"And Alistair was _her_ child."

It surprised Solana that he knew, that Fiona would have told him. Anders shook his head. "She's been looking for a cure to the Calling since before _you_ were born. We can't expect her not to use it."

"It doesn't make sense." It did, but she didn't want it to. "What would the mages get out of that?"

Anders sighed. "That is what I don't know. If they were indeed part of the rebellion… that is unsettling."

"Unsettling?" Coming from the man who'd pretty much started that very rebellion.

"I don't like the idea of mages being used. It was different when we were prisoners fighting for our freedom. Now we _are_ free. If this is the sort of thing we do as free mages, we'll only be adding legitimacy to the Chantry's calls for the Circles to be reestablished... Whatever she's doing, we have to stop her, Solana. Will you help us?"

* * *

Samson thanked the absent Maker and Andraste's holy knickers that he hadn't given in to Celeste's urging and made love to her that night. He had no idea how long the mages had been there and it disgusted him to think they may have witnessed _that_. As it was, they'd probably seen his glorious breakdown in all its pathetic wonder.

He stood perfectly still as they made ready to leave. Celeste did seem to know a few of them. She addressed them by name, asking where they would be going and why. But the mages did not answer her and offered only variations of, "You'll see when we get there."

To him, they said nothing. He may not even have existed, except that shortly before leaving one of them demanded his sword. He was still holding the thing, although his arm rested at his side. He'd been careful not to appear a threat.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Samson told the mage levelly, recalling the red shimmer that had passed over the metal in the light.

The mage made a sound of annoyance and snatched it from his grip. He was a pale chap, but he paled further. It was immediately clear the sword was too damned heavy for him. His muscles - such as they were - strained and his arm shook. His eyes grew larger and larger and he let out a little squeak before dropping it. It clattered onto the ground, loudly enough that everyone turned to them.

The mage pointed at the sword. "It's possessed!"

"No, it's not," Samson said.

"When I touched it, it, it… it spoke to me. And my mana, I couldn't. It's got a demon in it!"

Samson bent to pick it up, but the mage unshouldered a staff and pointed it at him. "No, step away from it!"

"Let me guess..." Samson rested his hands on his thighs. "It sang to you? And it cut off access to your magic. That right?"

The mage nodded. Samson reached for the sword again, keeping his eyes locked on the mage. "Lyrium. Not demons."

"Leave it!" He cut the air with his staff.

Samson bit his tongue. He didn't want to anger the jumpy scrap of a man, but he wasn't about to leave the sword that Maddox had made for him here. "It won't affect me. I'm immune."

"You're not bringing a sword along. You'll murder us all in our bedrolls."

"Will I, now?" At this rate the mage would be fortunate to survive that long.

"Leave him, Deuter," the lead mage instructed.

Samson needed no more encouragement than that. He picked up the sword and tucked it into the sheath on his belt. It fit as well as his old sword had, although it was heavier. When he stood, he found the mage leader smiling at him thinly, although his eyes were still cold.

"We're not taking prisoners, after all," he said to the other mage. "There's no harm in those we escort being armed, is there?"

He seemed to want a response from Samson. "No?"

The mage chuckled. "You'll see when we get there, we're all on the same side."

* * *

The pain beat with Cullen's heart, an all-consuming ache pulling him from sleep. He wanted to escape the pain, sink back into the deep warm dark, but no matter how he turned his head, it drummed on. It felt like his brain was too large for his head, and it was expanding outward, pushing against the inside of his skull. His throat felt raw, his tongue large and heavy.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.

He was no longer in the cell, but in a bright room, on a soft bed. It smelled a little of moss and… something else. Lyrium. He could _smell_ lyrium.

"Cullen?"

He turned his head to the other side, squinting against morning light that spilled from a window. No sooner did he move, however, then his view as blocked by a bush of red hair.

"Cullen!"

She kissed his cheek, his nose, his lips, his forehead, and her hand lingered on his other cheek as she pulled away enough for him to see her. Solana.

Her eyes were bloodshot and sunken, but she smiled at him, and she stroked his hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Alive," he said. The note of surprise in his voice made him feel silly, but the last thing he remembered was… "Anders?"

A figure moved beside Solana, backlit by the window and difficult to see properly. "Good Morning, Commander. Drink this."

Cullen's heart leapt to his throat. _No!_ His weakened arm muscles shook violently as he tried to push his body upwards to sit. "Get away from her!"

He lashed out, knocking into Anders's arm as he was passing Cullen a bright blue clay mug. Anders stumbled backwards, managing to hold onto the mug, although some of the liquid sloshed out. Blue liquid.

Cullen's pulse thrummed. He knew he had to get Solana out of here, get her to safety. But the blue… was that… could it be? He paused long enough for Solana to press her warm hand to his bare chest.

"It's alright, Cullen. Lie back now. You're safe."

He _wanted_ to believe her.

"Maybe I should leave," Anders said. He hesitated a moment. Now Cullen could see his face. He looked as drained as Solana did. His skin was papery. His hair hung loose, brushing his shoulders, and he sported rough, uneven, stubble. He didn't look anything like a warlord. He handed Solana the mug.

"It's a lyrium tea," he said to Cullen. "Elfroot for the side effects, citrus for absorption, and honey for taste. I used to give it to the washed up Templars in Dark Town. When I could get the lyrium that is. I… Right. I'll check in again later."

When the door clicked shut behind him, Solana helped Cullen sit. She puffed up the cushions and fussed with the blanket.

This felt like a trick. This room could not exist. They were in the Warden fortress. Blood everywhere and the collar and the endless corridors and… the withdrawal, the confession. He must be mad, dreaming or dead.

Solana kissed his forehead again. She pressed the mug into his trembling hand. It was warm and a slice of orange bobbed on the surface of the liquid within. When he didn't drink immediately, she guided the tea to his lips and he was too weak to fight her, especially when he smelled the lyrium again. He drained the mug in large thirsty gulps. Some dribbled down his chin and Solana wiped it away.

This was the Solana of his fantasies, but in his fantasies she'd never looked this tired. In his fantasies she wouldn't have been wearing stained robes, and the milky skin at her neck would not have been splotched red. And he certainly wouldn't have fantasized that Anders would be here.

Which meant he really was, miraculously, alive. Alive and out of that Warden Keep. Alive and Anders was helping him. Alive and… and Solana knew about the lyrium, knew he had endangered them both with his addiction. She had almost… for him…

The memory of her before that Warden rushed back at him and he felt physically ill.

"Why aren't you angry with me?" he asked in a broken voice.

"We were wrong about Anders," she said. "It's Fiona who took the phylacteries and we're going to get them back. Hawke's brother is here. Carver. You know him, don't you? And Oghren from the Blight and Nathaniel of course, and-"

"Why aren't you _angry_ with me?" he repeated. He didn't care about the phylacteries anymore. All he could see in his mind was her on her knees. "You should be angry. What you did… What you nearly had to do because of me."

Her beautiful eyes went wide. "You're alive. None of that matters."

"But the lyrium. I hid it from you."

She seized his hands in hers, bowed her head and kissed his fingers. "It doesn't matter."

"Solana." He gently pulled his hands free. He needed to tell her the truth. The full truth. "I've been taking it again… taking it since I came back from South Reach."

She stared at him. Good. He didn't deserve this affection.

"That long?" Her voice was small.

He found he couldn't bear to look at her. "I wanted... I wanted to go back to how things were before. I thought lyrium would help. I thought it would make me better. I thought it would fix things between us, fix me. "

"There's nothing wrong with you."

The statement was ridiculous. "Isn't there? When I was in South Reach all I could think about was seeing you again, holding Alise. But when I got back…"

"You were angry with me."

"Maybe I should have spoken to you about it. I was so afraid that if I let my anger loose…" He knew his anger was a terrifying thing. Even then, he hadn't wished to hurt her. "And then I did. What I said about Alistair…"

"Was true. You think I don't know I'm to blame for his death?"

Cullen's insides jerked at the bitterness in Solana's tone, at long-buried words she'd probably thought over and over but never actually said.

"You are not. You thought you were doing the right thing."

"I thought that with Alise too." Her gaze dropped to her hands. "I… I realise now that I was acting as the Hero, not as your wife."

He didn't know what to say. She bit her bottom lip. Her brow creased. "I realise... I've been doing that all along. Before Haven, I was alone for such a long time. And before that… I'm not sure I know how to be with someone else, how to be what you need. But I want to try."

"Solana…" He touched her chin, trying to coax her to meet his gaze.

"I don't want to be the sun, Cullen. I don't want you to fear touching me. I don't want to drive you to seek refuge in _lyrium_." She spat the word and he realised she _was_ angry, but her anger wasn't directed at him.

"Solana, it isn't your fault. _I_ was weak-"

"I'm your _wife_ , Cullen. I should have never allowed you to feel that alone. I-"

He pulled her into his arms and she let out a sob as her cheek landed against his chest. He held her and she wrapped her arms around him. She was so small, so fragile like this. He pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"It's not your fault," he repeated. It didn't matter whether it was true or not, whether he would have turned to lyrium if she hadn't run off with Alise that night. Hearing the misery in her voice made his heart ache as badly as his head did. "I love you."

Her muffled voice came from beneath her mane of hair. "I love you too."

Cullen slept soundly with Solana in his arms. When he woke, he was alone and light rain was drumming against the window. There were low voices in another room. He tried to hear what they were saying, but he fell asleep again before he could work it out.

The next time he woke it was to Solana's gentle kisses. She offered him broth and a thick dark bread to eat. The broth, like the tea, was laced with lyrium and he suspected some sort of sedative, for he fell asleep again halfway through the meal.

"Knight Captain?"

Cullen jerked awake a third time to find a new face at the side of his bed.

"Carver Hawke?" he asked sleepily, vaguely recalling Solana mentioning he was here.

Carver smiled, the corners of his mouth crinkling in a way they wouldn't have a decade prior when they'd first met. His right arm was in a sling, but he held out the blue mug to Cullen with his left. "Anders said I should give you this. They've gone out for a bit. Solana said to assure you she isn't doing anything dangerous."

Cullen returned Carver's smile at that. It was good to know she was safe, and that she'd thought to reassure him. He accepted the mug gratefully, and managed to hold it steady as he drank.

Carver chuckled. "So, you married a mage?"

He had known Cullen at his worst. It was all Cullen could do to stop himself from cringing. "Your brother found the irony amusing too."

"I'm sure he did. You remember the heated debates you used to have about mage rights in the Gallows? All the while you were playing dumb, as if you didn't know exactly what my brother was."

Cullen wasn't particularly fond of reminiscing about those days. "He was always careful not to offer conclusive proof."

"Rubbish. You let him do as he liked because he helped people."

There was an element of truth to that. For a long time, Cullen had felt guilty for not acting, for not stopping Anders when he'd first realised he was a mage. But how could he when he was doing so much for Dark Town's poorest denizens? How could he take Hawke to the Gallows when he was, at times, all that was holding the blighted city together?

And the truth was, if he had put Anders in the Gallows back then, Solana would most likely be dead now. She would have died from a bear attack, in childbirth, or by Leliana's arrow. He couldn't find it in him to regret his actions.

"And you're working for Anders now, are you?" he asked.

Carver leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "He likes to think so. I work for the Wardens. Nathaniel Howe is my commanding officer-"

"Nathaniel?" Cullen's heart started pounding. Had Solana mentioned him that morning? Cullen wasn't sure. But if Solana was with Nathaniel, she _wasn't_ safe. He had to get to her. He threw his covers aside, but Carver stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy, Knight-Captain."

"Nathaniel wishes to kill Solana. Do you understand? Where did they go?" His head swam.

Carver pushed him back down into bed. "Wished. Past tense. They're fine now."

"Fine?" Blood roared in his ears. How could Carver be certain?

"You probably won't believe me, but the Warden Commander's a good man. He helped Solana with that collar of hers last night, right? And he carried you out of the Keep."

"Warden Commander?"

Carver nodded. "That's right. And a good one. When one of our unit ran off, he went after him himself. Crossed Thedas for him, to make sure he was okay."

Cullen's mind was still sluggish, but that rang familiar. "Raoul?"

"Yeah. He insisted on tracking him alone. Of course Velanna wasn't having any of that."

"Velanna?"

"Velanna. His wife."

It was difficult to reconcile this story with the Nathaniel that Cullen had met. He had been roguish, malevolent, tormented. He certainly hadn't presented himself as a commander or a family man.

"We followed him. Velanna's a good tracker. Just as well we did, since he managed to get himself arrested."

They must have broken him out of the village gaol. Or perhaps they'd used their position as Wardens to secure his release. Perhaps it hadn't even been Nathaniel who had stolen their map, but this tracker, Velanna.

"But you knew Anders was alive. You knew he was with Hawke. When we met Nathaniel he insisted we were lying."

Carver shrugged. "It's not like I enjoy talking about my brother's love life. Or what he did to Kirkwall."

Cullen recalled vaguely how Carver had never seemed to like Anders. When he'd seen them together, they'd usually been arguing or throwing sour looks at each other. "Yet you're helping Anders now?"

"We're helping the _Wardens_ now." Something dark crossed his features and he adjusted his sling. "Anders… Well, he's not as bad as I expected." He fell silent, staring at the quilt. "Uh… Knight-Captain… do you know what happened between him and my brother? He won't talk about it."

The question was surprising. Hadn't Carver just said he wasn't interested in discussing Hawke's personal life? Cullen cleared his throat. "I do know. But I don't know if it's something you wish to hear of."

"Well, he is my brother. And I know how he cared about Anders. It must have been quite something… I mean after Kirkwall. They stayed together through that, so... " His gaze stayed locked at a spot on the quilt.

Cullen didn't know if he should say anything.

"Knight-Captain?" Carver prompted.

Cullen shook his head. "Not Knight-Captain. Just Cullen."

"About my brother."

He must have been particularly concerned to insist this way. Best keep it vague. "Well Anders did some things Hawke didn't approve of. Hawke-"

"Some things." Carver rubbed his eyes. "These wouldn't be the same _some things_ that Solana referred to?"

"Possibly."

"Look, Kn- Cullen, I know my brother can be a prick when the mood takes him, but he's never gone and killed a bunch of innocents to make a point. I suppose what I'm trying to say is… I want to be on the right side here. I know what Fiona is doing is wrong. But it's strange that Anders is here without Hawke, isn't it? If what Anders wants is to set things to rights… well, when there's an opportunity to save the day, my brother's always first in line."

"You're asking _me_ if you can trust Anders?"

Carver shrugged.

"Carver, I came here thinking I'd have to kill Anders. I may not be the right person to ask."

"Why? Why did you think he took the phylacteries?"

"You were in Kirkwall." But that wasn't the whole story. Where did he start? "I thought that Justice had taken control. I asked Anders to give up control some months ago. I thought that perhaps he hadn't gotten that control back. You've been with him. Is that the case?"

Carver shook his head. "I haven't seen Justice. Not like in the old days. Although sometimes they reminisce and Anders will chip in on his behalf. Why did you ask him to give up control?"

How did he explain? "To save Solana. And our child."

Carver raised his eyebrows. "Is that what Hawke didn't approve of?"

It would have been easier to lie, but Carver would have probably had more questions. Best tell the truth and tell it as simply as possible. "Our daughter was born carrying the Taint. Anders tried to cure her. Secretly. With Fiona's help."

"Fiona?"

"Hawke did not approve of the methods they used," Cullen added.

"What methods?"

Cullen recalled the room with the blood vials, the books, Solana's pale, worried face. That had been the moment things had started to fall apart between them. _I don't know who you are._ "Tevinter methods."

"Tevinter?" He leaned closer. "Are you… were they doing _blood magic_?"

"In truth, I don't know. But they were experimenting using blood samples."

"Blood samples?" Carver squeaked. He rose out of his chair.

Carver paced across the room and back again. "Did they succeed?" He demanded. "Did they cure the Taint?"

It had been a terrible mistake to tell him, Cullen knew that now. He swallowed. "As far as I'm aware, none of Fiona's experiments succeeded."

"And Hawke discovered this? That's why he threw Anders out? And Solana, she was involved?"

Cullen dodged that question. "Hawke didn't throw Anders out. He was upset, yes. But Anders left him. To come here. I assume he must have been following Fiona."

"Yes." Carver scowled. "Yes. It all makes sense now. Thank you, Cullen."

* * *

"Something's wrong. The wards have been disturbed."

They all stopped behind Velanna. Solana tightened her grip on the staff they'd pinched for her from Fiona's supplies.

Up to now, it had been a good day. After staying up all night planning, they'd gone on one last scouting mission to the keep to finalise the plans for their attack. They all agreed that they could not risk waiting longer to make a move. Fiona would probably send people to search for the escaped Hero and that might mean they'd stumble upon the cottage.

The Wardens had spent the last hours exchanging jokes and sharing a comradery that Solana remembered from her days fighting the Blight. Oghren told her all about his child and she traded stories about Alise in Wardens had teased each other, called each other names and poked fun at one another, but they'd laughed and smiled while doing it.

Now no one spoke.

Nathaniel stepped slowly towards the cottage. It was sitting in a puddle of sunlight and there was no outward sign of anything amiss.

Something crashed down behind the building. "Anders!" Carver's voice. "Anders! I need your help!"

Solana ran forward without thinking. Cullen was in there. He could be in danger. But Anders overtook her. "Carver! What is it?"

He dashed around the cottage and Solana rounded the corner just in time to see him being slammed against the wall, the collar clamped around his neck.

Anders's mouth formed an "O" of surprise. Solana pointed the staff at Carver's chest, but he'd drawn his sword and, though he held it in his left hand, he held it steady, pointing at her stomach.

Nathaniel skid to a halt beside her. "What in the Maker's name!"

"He's working with her. They both are." Carver said.


	103. Into line

The Wardens stood around the small wooden table in the main room. Anders slouched forward on a stool, as if the collar had a much greater physical weight than Solana knew it to have. "I'm not working with Fiona. I'm the one trying to stop her."

"But you helped her with her experiments at Skyhold! You knew what she was doing. You've known what she's been doing all along! I didn't need to-" Carver paced, gripping his hair at the roots. "It was all for nothing."

"I did not know what she was doing. I still don't."

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" He waved an arm in Solana's general direction. "She's curing Wardens. Does what it says on the tin, doesn't it?"

Solana stiffened. She was seated in the chair opposite Anders. No one had slapped a collar on her, but she was very aware of the number of unsheathed weapons in the room.

"Please calm down," Nathaniel said.

Carver rounded on him. "Didn't you hear what I said? She was using _Tevinter_ magic."

"Enough!" Nathaniel slammed a hand down in the middle of the table and Solana jumped.

Carver ducked his chin and muttered, "I never thought I'd agree with Hawke about anything."

Nathaniel glared at him, but when he spoke it was to Anders. "Anything else you'd like to share with us?"

"Nothing at present."

"I helped you willingly, Anders," Nathaniel growled. "I've been taking your orders and I've given you the use of my men. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"This doesn't change anything," Anders said.

"It changes everything!" Carver cut in. "You started this! She started this! It's not a mage who's gone mental, it's the whole lot of you."

"Oy!" Oghren spoke for the first time. "Careful, boy."

"Don't call me boy."

Oghren unsheathed his sword and glowered at Carver. "You take back what you said about Solana."

"You can't be serious?"

"Take it back!"

"Stop!" Anders stood. A flash of blue travelled along his skin. He looked down at Nathaniel and his eyes were bright cerulean. When he spoke, his words seemed to echo. "Remove this foul contraption and cease this petty bickering."

Oghren's mouth dropped open. Everybody stared. Velanna drifted closer to him. "Justice?"

He turned his bright gaze on her. He blinked and his gaze _softened_ somehow. "Anders and I are one. This is not the first time we are seeing each other again."

But it was clear, looking at the faces around the table, that it felt like it was. It was the strangest thing, the way their expressions lit up to see Anders like this, as if seeing an old friend and not a terrifying force of nature. Oghren put his sword down on the table and chuckled. Nathaniel _smiled_.

Justice sighed. "Please remove this…" He waved at his neck. "It is most uncomfortable."

Nathaniel patted Justice on the back and pulled a leather toolkit from his belt. "Perhaps you will answer us more plainly than your host," he said as he got to work on the lock.

"You're just going to let him go?" Carver asked, voicing some of the amazement Solana felt.

"What is it you still wish to know?" Justice asked Nathaniel, ignoring Carver.

"Has Anders been working with Fiona?"

"It is not quite so simple. A young mage named Celeste wrote to Anders begging him to join her at Skyhold and assist in finding a cure for the Hero. He refused at first, but when he learned she was with child, he was driven to lend his aid. They worked alongside Fiona to discover a cure for the blight, it is true. But _they_ did not find one."

He looked pointedly at Solana and she stayed still, hoping the others didn't notice.

Nathaniel's attention was focused on the lock. "Blood magic?"

"No," Justice answered without a second's hesitation. "Aside from any mortal laws you may have attached to such practices, it would be an exceedingly dangerous enterprise for me. I have no desire to cross that particular line again."

"What line?" Carver demanded.

Justice moved his haunting eyes to the younger Hawke. "I have become intoxicated with purpose in the past. First, when I was initially joined with Anders. When I…" He looked around the table, "...abandoned you all, to flee to Kirkwall. Anders cannot recall much of what happened in those early days. It was… unpleasant. There were Templars who tried to prevent our passage. The second time… I believe they are calling it the Kirkwall Rebellion."

"So what was it if not blood magic?" Carver asked.

"Experiments."

"Whose blood did you take?" Carver's voice was a little less steady on this question.

"A gentleman by the name of Raleigh Samson was the main contributor beside Solana herself." When no one reacted to the name, Justice added, "He was the head of Corypheus's army. Corrupted by Red Lyrium. And a willing subject. For the most part."

"So you didn't… You didn't keep prisoners."

"No, we did not do as Fiona's mages did to you, Carver."

The collar clicked, and Nathaniel was able to remove it easily. No horrific burns to deal with here.

"I have a question," Nathaniel said. "What's your true motive here? And don't say Justice."

Justice gave him a bemused look, rubbing Anders's neck. "Are you certain you would not rather ask Anders, in that case? I believe he has a speech prepared."

It was difficult to know whether he was joking. Every word was delivered in monotone. But Nathaniel laughed. "I'm sure he does."

Justice put a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. "I wish to help prevent harm. To continue my mission as a Grey Warden. I promise you that I am not in cahoots with this Fiona. Will you accept my word?"

Surprisingly, Nathaniel looked to Carver.

Carver stared at the table, at his feet. Finally, he nodded.

Nathaniel sighed. "I suppose you need to bring Anders back?"

"He will be distressed to learn you prefer my company."

Another joke? Nathaniel patted Anders's shoulder again. "It's nothing he does not already know."

Justice was still a moment. Then Anders flew to his feet, making everyone jump.

"What happened? What did I do?"

The Wardens laughed, but Solana could see the pure terror on his face.

"It's alright, Anders. Justice didn't do anything but talk," she assured him.

His hands were shaking as he sat again. "I tried to hold him back. I tried so hard."

Nathaniel squeezed his arm, the laughter died out. "All is well. Justice knows he is among friends."

"Friends…" Anders repeated, as if the word was alien, although he was probably still trying to work out what Justice might have said.

* * *

Cullen was asleep when Solana went in to check on him. In the rich hued rays of the late afternoon, he was inordinately beautiful. His breathing was even now, and his skin had lost that sickly pallor. Even sleeping he seemed so strong, like a mythical hero carved from dragon bone. She'd thought nothing could shake him. She'd thought his military training and inner discipline had given him the ability to withstand everything - Alise's illness, the incident in the Fade at the Tower, catching Solana in the midst of that ritual, seeing her die and brought back to life. He had been angry, yes. And of course he had been hurt… but she hadn't thought for an instant that it had all affected him so deeply. She'd thought she could paper over it all with shared breakfasts and small talk. And then when he'd admitted to distrust, she'd left him. She'd let her own rage and despair carry her away. She had assumed he would be fine, that he'd turn to his work and go back to how things were before she'd arrived at Haven.

She'd had it all wrong.

There was a stool beside the bed where Anders had sat for most of the night nursing him. Now Solana sank down onto the stool and reached into her robes. Tucked in a small inner pocket beside her breast was the coin Cullen had given her the day they'd faced the Wardens at Adamant.

She'd thought she'd understood Cullen. He was the sturdy Templar, bound to order, if not _the_ Order. He was meticulous and strategic, more comfortable in a fight than at the dinner table with company. He thought any problem could be dealt with with either a book or a sword. Unshakable. Immovable. Stubborn. Jealous.

Now, looking at him while he slept, she realised she hardly knew him at all. She knew the man she'd imagined him to be as a teenager, and she'd fallen in love with other parts of him that she'd glimpsed in the months since they'd reunited. But that was barely the surface. She stroked his golden hair gently. Was it his fault for not speaking to her? Or, was it her fault for not listening?

His eyes opened and he smiled at the sight of her. The look made her stomach warm. She fumbled for something to say. She hadn't meant to wake him.

"I thought I heard shouting… was I dreaming?" His voice was lower than usual, but not as weak as it had been earlier.

"Everything's fine. You must rest."

"I spoke to Carver. He seemed upset."

She leaned forward and kissed him, cutting off further questioning.

He cleared his throat as she drew away. "Are you confronting Fiona tonight?" His gaze lingered on her lips.

"They are." Her heart beat faster. She hadn't said anything to the Wardens yet.

"They?" he prompted, not missing her subtle emphasis.

"I'm not leaving you again, Cullen." She explored his face. "They can do this without the Hero. You need me."

His brow furrowed and he lifted himself up, trying to sit. "Solana…"

"You said you didn't want me to keep putting myself in danger. So I won't. From now on, you're all that matters." She touched his cheek and looked into his eyes so he could see how serious she was.

"Thank you," he said, although he sounded confused. His gaze searched hers, but she wasn't sure what he was looking for.

* * *

Solana volunteered to help Anders prepare dinner, and Carver declared that he would join them, no doubt to keep an eye on them.

The kitchen led off the opposite side of the main room from the bedroom. It only had half a roof, and a pair of birds were tending to their nest in the corner. There were three bedrolls stretched out under the side with the roof, but there was also a functional stove and a narrow stone counter providing ample space for food preparation.

Anders emptied out the supplies they'd nabbed earlier and Solana went to fetch water from the well out front. When she returned, Carver was standing at the counter chopping roots and mushrooms and Anders was stoking a fire. The air was thick with silence around them.

She knelt beside Anders, pouring water into the pot they'd use for that night's stew. He thanked her with a weak smile.

"So, Justice seems to like these people," she offered awkwardly. She wanted to reassure Anders that Justice hadn't done anything terrible while he'd been in control.

"He does," Anders agreed. There was a long pause and Solana searched for something else to say. Then Anders added, "Which is why I've decided to stay with the Wardens."

"What?" Carver asked at the counter.

"You heard me. I think we can both agree it is the best place for me. Justice is satisfied, he has purpose. And the Chantry has no rights to me, no matter what happens with the Circles. Plus, I always did enjoy a little adventure. I might grow accustomed to dank underground corridors yet."

"Nathaniel will never agree."

"He already has, Carver. Said I could get a cat again, too."

Carver stared at him, the meal momentarily forgotten. "What about Hawke?"

Anders prodded the fire again. "Hawke will be fine."

"He gave up everything for you, Anders. He lived on the run for you. You can't just-"

"Just what? Set him free?" Anders snapped back. "You never approved of us. Or of me. Why the sudden interest, Carver?"

Carver scowled. Then he pushed the vegetables away from himself decisively. "I'm going to check on Cullen."

When they were alone, Anders sighed. He stared at the fire, head hung low. "Let me tell you about Hawke," he said softly. "When I met Hawke he was sleeping on the floor of a Lowtown hovel, in the corner of his uncle's room. He'd spent a year indentured to a mercenary and he was still spending every hour of every day working - menial labour, hired fighter, messenger. No job was beneath him. I've seen the scars that life left on him. I saw him when he was so gaunt that I could count his ribs through his robes.

"And he could have left. After the Blight, he could have gone home. He could have lied his way through Starkhaven. He could have taken ship and ravaged the coasts of Rivain. He could have had anyone and anything he wanted. He was skillful enough, and clever enough, and he was certainly good looking enough. And the kind of magic he can cast... I've never seen its like.

"But he never would. He stayed in Kirkwall. For his family at first. He gave everything to them, and he watched them leave or die, one by one. And then he stayed for me, and he gave everything to me. And by the Maker, Solana. If I had stayed at Skyhold, he would still be giving everything to me. He would never leave me. No matter how unhappy he was. No matter how many times I disappointed him. I had to be the one to leave."

"Oh Anders…" She wanted to argue. She could recall a few tender moments between him and Hawke. But she had also seen the doubt. Hawke's expression the day Anders arrived at Skyhold, Anders's large sorrowful eyes watching Hawke when he returned from the Wilds.

Instead of saying anything, she threw her arms around Anders's neck and drew him into a hug.

"I should point out that Justice is not fond of hugs," he said. But he wrapped his arms around her too.

* * *

The Wardens discussed the details of their attack plan while they ate. The keep was three levels - the dungeon, the ground floor and an upper floor where Fiona and the mages would be found. Carver had managed to learn more than just what Fiona was doing in his time there. He'd also learned much of the layout of that top floor. They'd find Fiona at the centre, in a circular room that had once been the base of the watchtower.

"I've never been in there myself," he warned. "But that's where the mages come and go from."

He'd drawn out a map and marked the two entrances. The Wardens would secure both and then Anders would confront Fiona. They didn't have more details than that - as plans went it wasn't very much - but Nathaniel seemed confident that they'd be able to control the situation when they were there.

"Solana, you will be at this entrance. If things go badly with Anders-"

She jerked, splashing stew out of her bowl. She'd been dreading them mentioning her part in this. "Uh…"

"Something the matter?"

"I'm not… I'm not going to be there…"

The Wardens stared at her.

"Whatya mean you're not gonna be there?" Oghren asked.

A ball of cold guilt made her stomach churn. She set down her spoon carefully. "I need to stay here. With Cullen."

Nathaniel shook his head. "Carver will stay with your Templar. You need not concern yourself with his well being."

"I know." It had been clear from the start that Carver would not be joining them in the keep with his broken sword arm. "But it's not about that. It's… I've put him through enough."

Anders shook his head. "I don't understand. You came all the way here for those phylacteries."

"I know. But my priorities have... shifted."

"You're not pregnant again?"

"No! At least, not that I know of." She felt colour rising to her cheeks as memories of her and Cullen's night together in the woods came back to her. She cleared her throat. "Not now, but maybe one day. I owe it to Cullen to put him and our family first for once. You're Grey Wardens. You have Justice on your side. You don't need me. He does."

"No."

She turned at the unexpected sound of Cullen's voice. He stood in the doorway of the bedroom, still shirtless and leaning heavily on the doorframe. "Solana, you should go. You're the Hero of Ferelden. Ferelden's mages need you. I'll not hold you back."

"I'm not the Hero anymore."

He moved unsteadily into the room, one slow step at a time. She went forward to help him, but he held a hand out to stop her. "Yes. You are. You've always been the Hero, Solana. As long as I've known you. It's in your nature to help, to defend the weak." He offered her an unsteady smile. "Even when you were merely offering your breakfast to a browbeaten young Templar. You can't stop being that woman simply because you are married to me."

Nathaniel moved away from the table. "I hate to interrupt but sun's down. We need to go." With a tilt of his head, the Wardens started moving towards the door.

Solana kept her attention on Cullen until Nathaniel prompted, "Solana? Your choice, but you have to make it now."

Cullen nodded his encouragement.

"I'm coming," she said, but she moved closer to Cullen, taking his hand. "What you said, about me being the sun…"

"You _are_ the sun." He brushed hair from her forehead, gazing at her face. "You are the sun, but my error was thinking I needed to hold you still to love you. Go. Save Thedas. I will be here when you return."

Carver groaned. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Solana grinned and pulled away from Cullen, still squeezing his hand. "Alright. I'll try to be careful."

He returned her smile. "Yes. Please. I have no desire to return home without you."

The ancient Warden keep was colder than Solana remembered. She had been so frightened for Cullen before that she hadn't noticed the temperature, but as they crept through the corridors now she found herself clenching her teeth. Or perhaps the coldness was inside her. Dread. Dread had always felt icy cold. It reminded her of those days in the ruins beneath the Brecilian Forest, before she'd become hard.

Nathaniel proved an excellent shot with the bow after all. Twice, he took out Warden patrols with poisoned darts to the neck before they even noticed anything was amiss. Perhaps there was truth to his claim that he hadn't been aiming to kill her that day in the forest. Velanna cast a spell to muffle the sound of their footsteps and they managed to make it to the top floor without any direct confrontation.

"Time to split up," Nathaniel said as they exited the stairwell. "Solana, you're with me."

That surprised her. She'd assumed he'd want to be with Velanna and she'd be partnered with Oghren and Anders, but she didn't challenge him.

The others split off and the two of them started down the curved corridor to the nearer of the two tower entrances. Solana ran through spells in her mind, hoping that she wouldn't have to use them. She didn't want to fight Fiona any more than she'd wanted to fight Anders. When she thought of Fiona, she thought of delicate hands and how hard they'd gripped hers in the Fade, she thought of that concerned face hovering over hers in the cart up to Skyhold.

She thought of Alistair. The last enduring part of him.

Nathaniel caught her wrist and whipped her around so fast that her head cracked against the wall before she'd even realised he was pressing her to it. She bit down on her tongue to suppress an instinctual yelp.

"What in the-"

He bore down on her like she'd seen him do with Camille. "Now we're alone, you have some explaining to do."

Her pulse started racing. She'd let down her guard. She shouldn't have. He was still the man who'd held that pillow over her face.

"About what?" She jutted out her chin, but there was nothing defiant in the wisp of a voice that emanated from her throat.

His eyes raked over her. "Let's start with how you cured yourself. Justice said Fiona didn't find a cure. But you clearly did."

"My child-"

"Save it." He glanced over his shoulder. His fingers dug into her wrist. "Tell me how."

She didn't have to fear him. She had her powers now. She could force him to let go. She knew this and still her heart beat faster with remembered fear. She couldn't find her voice.

"I have a theory," he said. "You want to hear my theory? This is what I think. Fiona was the only Warden to ever be cured of the Taint. Until now." His voice was so incredibly deep. "She cured you, didn't she? What did she ask in return? Did she ask for Grey Wardens?"

 _What?_ "You think I'm working for her? She put me in that collar!"

"Maybe you betrayed her. Maybe you're trying to win her favour again. Or maybe… maybe this _is_ about your child. You want her to cure the baby. That's why you came out here. You weren't looking for the phylacteries at all." He laughed as if everything had just clicked into place for him. His explanation sounded so logical it terrified her. In her mind's eye she saw an alternative Solana, one who hadn't made the deal with the demon, one who had never been to Kinloch. Would she have followed Fiona here?

 _Dark like your father…_

"Your theory's wrong."

"Then tell me the truth. And make it convincing."

If he was this angry already, what would he do when he learned that truth?

His gaze was hard, his jaw set and there was a fierceness to him that she'd last seen when she'd fought the werewolves.

"It wasn't to do with Fiona. Or Anders. It was just me. An insane risk that paid off."

Nathaniel sneered. Something burned on the back of the hand he was holding. She hissed and tugged it free. Tiny droplets of ruby blood pressed up from what looked like a scratch.

He held up a small knife coated in a thin film of black liquid.

"Quiet Death. Because _I_ prefer to avoid insane risks."

* * *

 _A/N I can't believe we're coming up on the end now! There are only 3 chapters and an epilogue left :O_


	104. Enchanters

Solana stared at the blood welling up from the tiny cut on her hand. It was so shallow that even she could heal it, but she knew the damage was already done. Quiet Death was a poison. An incredibly potent poison.

Nathaniel wiped the blade on his shirt and tucked it into his belt. "Let me explain. I've diluted this concoction in deepstalker bile which means it will take some time to reach your heart. When it does, your legs will start to feel weak. Your throat will close up. Then your mind will tear itself apart."

Solana tried to slow her breathing, even as panic threatened to take over. Her speeding heart would only make the poison travel faster. "Was this your plan all along? To finally do away with me as soon as I let down my guard?"

"You were never a part of my _plan_. My plan was to go in there and get my men out. I appreciate that Oghren cares about you, and Anders does too - although I can't imagine why considering you came here intent on murdering him."

Nathaniel was one to talk of murder. Her knees felt wobbly. Was the poison already taking effect? Or was it fear?

"This is merely insurance." Nathaniel unslung his bow. "There is an antidote. You'll get it when my men and I make it out of there alive."

Rage blinded her and she drove her shoulder into his chest. Her arm moved to strike him, but he caught her wrist again. "Now now, we're wasting valuable time."

"You bastard."

"There was a theory." He dropped her wrist. "But that's neither here nor there. Come along."

Solana followed Nathaniel the rest of the way down the corridor, feeling less like a hero and more like a puppy dog. Even while she focused on staying calm, anger burned in her chest and it was all she could do to stop herself from casting painful magic at his back. Something that hurt but didn't kill him. Would setting him on fire again be viable?

In any other situation, probably. But here, where they were surrounded by enemies, drawing attention with his screams would not be the best idea.

He signalled for her to stand back and pressed himself against the wall. Two Wardens rounded the corner. He took out the one with a dart. Solana threw a Winter's Grasp spell at the other.

Nathaniel _smiled_ at her, and nodded. _Good dog._ She gripped her staff so tightly that if it had not been metal it may well have snapped.

Another two Wardens guarded the entrance to the tower, and she and Nathaniel repeated the routine. They went down without a sound.

One way or another, this would all be over soon.

Solana expected to find a large room beyond, but instead, the door opened into a dark antechamber. The walls were lined with shelves. On the one side they were filled with books, on the other side, vials. It was almost like stepping through a portal to that room in Skyhold's depths, but not quite. Instead of a table at the end of the room, there was a workbench set up beside the wall. The room's only light source, a glowstone, cast eerie blue light over the bench. Solana didn't see the figure working there until it moved. It spun around in a whirl of dark mage robes. Solana cast Winter's Grasp at it, but her spell crashed into a barrier.

"Solana!"

The mage's hood fell from its head, revealing long blonde hair.

"Celeste?" _No! No no no no._ "You're working for Fiona?!"

Celeste showed none of the alarm Solana expected. "So you know it's Fiona. Good."

Nathaniel nocked an arrow. "Celeste? The woman who summoned Anders to Skyhold?" He aimed at her chest. "The mastermind behind Fiona's experiments?"

Celeste held up her hands in a gesture of surrender, and her barrier disintegrated into shards of glittering magic. "I'm here to help you."

"Bullshit!" Nathaniel's arrow flew.

A dark shape barrelled into Celeste from her left. The arrow whizzed past her and smashed into the apparatus behind her.

The shape drew a sword that shone with its own red light, the familiar glow of Red Lyrium. It highlighted the features of Raleigh Samson.

 _He_ must have done this. He must have betrayed the Inquisition and brought her here.? Samson rushed Nathaniel as he nocked another arrow.

"No!" Solana cast ice at Samson. If Nathaniel died, she did too.

But her spell glanced off another barrier. Nathaniel dodged out of Samson's way and pulled out the poisoned dagger.

"Stop!" Celeste pulled herself to her feet, using the workbench for support. Scarlet glinted on her neck. Nathaniel hadn't missed her by much at all.

Samson froze, with his glowing sword pointed at Nathaniel's stomach. Nathaniel sneered, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Celeste looked into the shadowed corner of the room where Samson must have been hiding. "Leliana sent me here to help you. You've been following a map, right? A star map. I wrote that map. Fiona was calling to me, and others from the rebellion, in our dreams."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Solana demanded.

"I…" Her gaze dropped to her feet.

"Well she didn't know if she could trust you, did she?" Samson asked.

"And she trusts _you_?"

"Matter of fact she does." He stood up a little straighter, but he looked to Celeste as if for confirmation.

"And you're what, now? Her private guard?"

"Something like that. I told Fiona I'd submit to more of her tests, willingly, long as Celeste is the one to work with me. She knew you'd arrive sooner or later."

Celeste dabbed at her neck with her sleeve and winced. "How much do you know of what she's doing?"

Solana lowered her staff. "We know she's promising to cure Wardens, and that she has members of the rebellion working for her."

Nathaniel growled. "That's it? You trust this woman now?"

"I trust her more than I trust you," Solana shot back.

"That's not saying very much."

Besides, she didn't have the luxury of time to decide. She had to go with her instincts and her instincts were that this was her friend. The woman who'd cared for her and her baby, who'd stayed with her and comforted her when Cullen had left, and when she'd left him.

"Does she plan to cure them the same way I did?" Solana asked.

Celeste fidgeted. "Yes. Unless I find an alternative."

"An alternative? By torturing the Wardens?" Nathaniel demanded.

"No!" Celeste blanched. She was still wringing her hands. "No, that has nothing to do with curing them."

"What, then?"

"It will be easier if I show you." Celeste gestured to the bookshelves as if requesting permission to fetch something. Solana nodded.

She drew out a loosely bound tome consisting of a variety of parchments and papers. "When Fiona was indentured to that magister, she was tasked with trying to cure his son of the wasting illness - the Blight. He had a gigantic library. He'd paid good coin to have every scrap of material on the Blight delivered to him, including these documents. At first, Fiona ignored them because they talk about making the Blight stronger, which is obviously not what she wanted. But, well, see for yourself."

She passed them to Solana.

She was going to refuse - she didn't have time for _reading_ now - but the sentences scrawled across the top of the first page caught her eye.

 _Blood magic comes from demons; they could counter every bit of lore I possess. But the darkspawn taint, that is alien to them. And it has power._

"What is this? Where is it from?" The words echoed her own discovery.

"Apparently it was found in the ruins of an old Warden fortress called Soldier's Peak when Corypheus claimed it as a base."

The name made Solana's stomach jerk. There'd been a man once who had begged her to journey there. Something about a family legacy. She hadn't had the time or the resources.

"When you discovered that demons and the Blight stand in opposition to each other, it jogged her memory. This tome may not have offered a cure for the Blight, but it offered something that she needed just as much."

Solana flipped through the pages hurriedly.

 _There must be some way to refine the Joining. Isolate the true power that is found in darkspawn blood, and leave behind the evil that kills us._

"She's trying to enhance the Taint? Why?"

Celeste gestured to the shadowy corner with her head. Solana could see a door there now. It must have led into the tower base. "Come talk to her. I'm certain you'll be able to reason with her."

Solana was still struggling to make sense of all this, but she was acutely aware of the limited time she had available do so. And if they could sort this out peacefully? It was worth giving it a try.

"Stay here with Samson," Solana instructed Nathaniel. "It will probably be best if I go alone."

"Not happening." He slung his bow over his shoulder.

* * *

From Carver's description, Solana had expected the room at the tower base to be open to the sky, surrounded by jagged, broken, walls. But it was more like a gigantic, glowstone-lit version of Cullen's office. There were many desks and most of them were piled with books. The upper floor was a mezzanine and, where Cullen's office had a ladder, this room had a staircase up against the far wall. Mages were drifting between the tables and a few stopped to stare as Celeste guided Solana to the staircase. Nathaniel trailed behind her and it was his gasp that alerted her to the cages. Along the far wall, tucked under the mezzanine, was a row of metal cages - the type she would have expected to see in Tevinter. Celeste averted her eyes from the emaciated prisoners as they mounted the stairs.

"Are those Wardens?" Nathaniel hissed.

"No. Mages."

Solana's arms shook and her stomach roiled. Poison or disgust? It could easily have been both.

The upper level was even worse. Individual cages, like the ones Solana had seen used for deserters at Ostagar, formed a thin corridor that they had to walk through. The prisoners stared straight ahead, as if in a stupor. Around each of their necks was a collar like the one the Wardens had put on Solana. At the far end, a figure leaned over a desk.

"Deuter, I will need more elfroot," it spoke in an Orlesian accent.

 _Fiona._

"It's not Deuter," Celeste said.

Fiona straightened and turned. She looked like she was about to say something, but she spotted Solana and paused. Solana could practically see her thoughts changing track.

"You've returned. Good. After what you did to those Wardens, I wasn't sure you would."

Solana could feel Nathaniel's disapproval. He hadn't seen the bodies, just the blood.

"What _I_ did? You put me in a Qunari collar!" She waved the book at her. "What in the Void is this?" She flung out her arm to encompass the cages. "And all of this?"

 _So much for calm._

Fiona held her hands spread flat in front of her chest. "The collar was a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding!"

"I know what you are capable of. I merely wanted to suppress your abilities until I had a chance to explain to you-"

"Suppress my abilities? Cullen almost died!"

"I had no way of knowing he was using lyrium again." She reached behind her and Solana gripped her staff, ready for a fight, but Fiona held out a vial of lyrium to her. "Peace offering?"

She didn't want to accept it, but it would take Cullen much longer to heal stuck with only mage grade. She snatched it from Fiona and shoved it into a pocket.

"What did you want to explain, then? Why you're torturing people? Why you're enhancing the Taint?"

Fiona seemed to notice the tome Solana was still clutching. "I understand how this must seem, but believe me I do not mean any harm."

"You tortured Carver Hawke!"

"He _volunteered_. They all volunteered." She took the book and flipped until she found a particular page. Then she handed it back to Solana.

 _The subject is not responding to the stimuli. Testing the pain threshold uncovered nothing. Only three subjects are left._

 _Day 82. If only I could reproduce last night's extraordinary success. Electricity is only a catalyst. The blood is the key._

 _Day 97. Energy and blood. Repeated applications have duplicated the results. I conjecture that success can be induced alchemically. But there are no more subjects left. If only I had one more. Or a dozen. The things I could do._

"Avernus was a Grey Warden Mage during the Storm Age," Fiona said. "He believed that he could enhance the Taint to the point where it became a weapon against demons, but resulted in no Calling. He came very close, but he ran out of test subjects."

The thought sickened Solana. _Test subjects_. As if they weren't people who'd been tortured to death. "Why would you want to enhance the Taint?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Fiona's large eyes stared into hers and Solana saw Alistair there. She didn't want to. "If mages are immune to demon possession, there is no reason to keep them imprisoned in Circles."

This _was_ about the new Divine, but not at all in the way that Leliana had thought. "You're creating an inoculation against possession?"

Fiona inclined her head. "And it's thanks to you. Imagine, Solana, if we could ensure that no mage was ever possessed again? The Joining as it is now is too dangerous, of course. But if we remove the danger-"

"No." Solana shook her head. The room spun. She reached out to grab one of the cages to support herself. Fiona had lured these Wardens here with promise of a cure, but in order to obtain that cure they'd have to suffer torture, maybe even die. If they were lucky, Celeste would find another cure. If not, they'd become demon vessels as their reward. She wanted to be sick. "No. The price is too high."

"Wardens are fated to die, you and I both know that. From the moment they take the Joining. Yes, I needed Wardens to continue the research, but these Wardens came willingly. They were willing to give _anything_ for the chance at a cure."

An arrow flew over Solana's shoulder. Fiona threw up a barrier just in time. Nathaniel cried out and launched himself at her. The poisoned dagger flashed, but he was no match for the First Enchanter. She flung a spell at him, too fast for Solana to protect him. It hit him in the stomach and he doubled over. "What have you done with Raoul?" he panted.

"Deuter!" Fiona called.

Nathaniel roared and hurled himself at her again. She waved an arm and when he slammed to the ground. He was no longer Nathaniel, but a statue cast from stone, with face frozen in rage.

Fiona stood panting and no one moved. A young mage rushed up the stairs behind them.

"Deuter, take this Warden downstairs and put him with the others. Samson, help him."

Samson looked to Celeste.

"Nathaniel didn't volunteer," she said.

Fiona waved that off as if it was a technicality. "He'll be relieved to see young Raoul again no doubt."

Solana clenched her fists. "This isn't the way, Fiona. This isn't the way to save the mages."

"Then what is, pray tell? Hoping for a Divine who will not go to war with our kind? I'm done with hoping, Solana."

Fiona brushed past her, stepping neatly around the frozen Nathaniel. "You came here for the phylacteries, I imagine?"

Deuter tugged on Nathaniel's arm, trying unsuccessfully to move him.

Celeste took Samson's hand. "You'd better help. If he knocks him over, he might shatter."

 _What?_

Their hands were clasped in an easy familiar way that only had one explanation.

With a sigh, Samson went to help Deuter, and Celeste turned to join Solana. Her cheeks brightened.

"This way!" Fiona called.

Solana wanted to ask Celeste about Samson, but she didn't get the chance. They were halfway down the stairs when a door at the far end of the room burst open and Anders, Velanna and Oghren flew through in a burst of magic.

Oghren spun and threw an axe at whatever was through the door behind them, then he took the second axe from his side and turned to face any further challengers. Velanna scanned the room for her husband and then, finally, spotted the stone figure being brought down the stairs behind Solana and Celeste. She scowled and raised her staff to cast. Anders held out a hand to halt her.

"Hello, Fiona. We have some catching up to do."

Fiona continued down the stairs without so much as pausing. "Anders. I was wondering when you'd show yourself. Or is it Justice, now?"

"Oh, believe me, if it was Justice you would know. Where are the phylacteries?"

"I was just taking Solana to see them. Would you and your friends care to join us?"

Velanna said something too softly for Solana to hear. Anders shook his head. "I saw the mages, in the other room. The magister's influence, no doubt. Did you love the idea of slavery so much you had to have your own?"

"What's in the other room?" Solana asked.

Anders appeared to notice her for the first time. His gaze slid to Celeste standing beside her. "Well, this is unexpected."

"I don't keep slaves," Fiona insisted.

"What's in that room?" Celeste echoed Solana's question. Solana was relieved that she didn't know.

"The worst fate you can imagine," Anders said. "Watched over by blighted thralls. Literally, I think. Warden senses and all that."

"What does he mean?" Celeste asked. Solana thought she might understand, but it was Samson who answered her.

"Well, she's gotta do something with the failed experiments, don't she? She's been trying her enhanced Blight or whatever on the fuckers and if it doesn't go according to plan, she locks them up. Can't have the rest of the mages seeing that, might put them off _volunteering_. Isn't that right?"

Celeste's hand flew to her mouth. Solana couldn't see Fiona's face so she couldn't gauge her reaction. The room was silent.

"Take the phylacteries and go, Anders. I have no quarrel with you."

Anders shook his head. "I'm a Grey Warden."


	105. Some may live and some may die

Fiona continued down the stairs towards Anders. "You misunderstand what we are doing here. I am saving the mages. I've found a way. They'll never put us in Circles again."

He lowered his staff a little.

"As Solana discovered, demons and the Blight are natural enemies. Ordinary Grey Wardens can be possessed, but we can change that. We can change the Joining, change the Taint. Make it more potent while removing the poison that shortens our years."

"You want to make all mages take the Joining?"

"Not the Joining that you and I took, no. An _improved_ Joining."

"You'd infect every mage with the Blight?"

"A version of it. Don't you see, Anders? This is what it's all been for. Everything we have lived through, it was leading to this."

"No," Solana said. She knew enough of Fiona's history to gather exactly what she meant. She meant being possessed, being cured and having Alistair. She meant losing Alistair to the Blight and to the Wardens, which is what had pushed her further into her research. She meant taking up the cause of the mages, starting the rebellion. She meant Alistair dying so that Solana would end up with Cullen, end up pregnant and desperate. She meant working with Celeste in the bowels of Skyhold, running experiments on Samson. She meant meeting Solana. She meant being present when Solana discovered the cure.

Fiona turned to look at her.

"Alistair would never, ever have allowed this. Don't imply he existed so that we could be here today, that he was some pawn in the Maker's plans. He was more than that."

"Do you think that Alistair would approve of what _you_ did?"

She shook her head. He definitely wouldn't have. Cullen hadn't either. "I care about the mages, I care about what you're trying to do here. But this is not the way. Creating monsters, holding them with blood magic and torturing volunteers? Keeping people in cages? Using Qunari collars? This is not the way. This has to stop."

Fiona sighed. "I thought you might say something like that. I hoped I could convince you otherwise, but alas." She waved a hand.

Solana knew what was coming. She dived aside, launching herself off the stairs as the magic came at her. She hit one of the tables and rolled, scattering pages, knocking over vials, but she landed on her feet before a startled mage. Solana froze him in place and whipped around to throw a spell at Fiona. Deuter was now stone. He'd been hit by the spell intended for her. Fiona was no longer on the stairs and sounds of battle came from where Anders had been standing, but there was a bookshelf in the way and Solana couldn't see them.

"Find the phylacteries!" Solana shouted to Celeste.

Celeste nodded and hurried down the stairs. Samson followed her, leaving the two statues where they were. Solana ran between the desks and ducked behind the shelves, freezing every mage she saw. She swung around a shelf to find Fiona and Anders facing off. No. Fiona and _Justice_. Anders's eyes glowed blue and his skin looked like cracked earth above molten lava, only in this case the lava was blue. This was the being who had protected her from the bear that night. Velanna fought beside him. Fiona had a cluster of mages at her side, throwing an unrelenting barrage of spells at the Wardens.

Solana's blood pumped hot and she lifted her staff to join the fight when her legs gave in. She landed hard on the stone ground, sending a jolt of pain up from her knees.

 _No! The poison!_

She tried to pull herself up on one of the bookshelves. She didn't know how to free Nathaniel. But one of the other mages trapped here might. She moved back behind the shelf, relying on her arms more than her legs, and pulled herself along the desks towards the cages where the mage prisoners stood at the bars peering at the action, or huddled at the back in fright.

"Stand clear!" she shouted.

The ones at the front shuffled backwards. Oh Maker, this could go horribly wrong. She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer, then sent a Stonefist at the bars. It slammed into them and shattered. It hadn't broken them, but the cage was old and it _had_ managed to bend them.

She cast again. And again.

As the third fist smashed into the bars, they gave way. The mages scrambled out, but only then did Solana see the collars.

 _No!_

She needed Nathaniel to pick the locks, so that they could cast the magic to free him.

The mages looked to Solana for guidance.

"Stop Fiona," she instructed. "Distract her, or something."

The mages ran to follow her instruction, vague as it was. She wasn't proving to be much of a leader, but it was all she could do to stand.

Bright green light flew over the shelves and slammed into Deuter. He became flesh once more and fell to his knees, gasping.

"Shatter him!" Fiona yelled.

It took Deuter a second to realise what she meant, then he leapt to his feet and pushed Nathaniel.

"No!"

Solana caught the statue with her magic, but it was heavy. Heavier than the water Celeste had accidentally gathered that day in Haven, and her muscles were weakening. She couldn't hold him. She couldn't…

The weight lifted.

Solana whirled to find Velanna standing behind her, arms out and an intense look of focus on her face. But just past her shoulder, one of the frozen mages was thawing. He pulled his staff hand free and aimed at Velanna. Solana cast ice at him again, but the spell was so weak that it only encapsulated the arm. She tried to reach for more mana and found she couldn't. There was nothing left.

Sweat broke out on Velanna's forehead as she tried to bear the weight of her husband alone. Her every muscle strained. She couldn't hold him for much longer. Solana needed to help. She needed… lyrium.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the vial Fiona had given her for Cullen. It was so much stronger than anything she'd taken before, but it would have to do. At this rate she wasn't going to live long enough to see the consequences.

She twisted the cap open and took the tiniest sip. It was vile. It burned her mouth and her throat and sent her coughing. But there was power there. Oh, there was power. Colours sparked behind her eyes and her veins hummed.

So this was what the real stuff felt like. The stuff they'd never give to mages.

And now she knew why. She reached up a single hand and took Nathaniel into her grasp. She even managed to set him on his feet again.

The shelf to her right exploded in a mess of paper and splinters and she flew backwards into one of the desks. Her ears rang. Bits of books smoldered on the ground. Through the smoke, she could make out figures moving, dusty silver and blue armour. Wardens. But not _her_ Wardens. Fiona's Wardens. Someone had thrown a Combustion Grenade.

Justice was a blue beacon, casting spell after spell in every direction. Samson was in the mess too, swinging his Red Lyrium sword. Other than that, it just seemed like bodies clashing into bodies. Solana sucked in air, wondering where to strike. She couldn't see Fiona, but she wanted to do something useful while the lyrium was still in her system.

While she could still move.

Hands grabbed her and pulled her aside as a slash of orange light hit the space where she'd been lying, courtesy of one of the thawed mages.

An arcane bolt flew over her shoulder and hit the mage in the stomach. Velanna tried to help her to her feet, but Solana couldn't get her legs under her.

"Are you injured?" Velanna asked.

"Quiet Death."

The ground trembled beneath them and Solana missed Velanna's reaction, if there was one.

"Here, Solana!" Fiona's voice called.

Solana snapped her head in its direction. Fiona stood beneath the stairs, her hand on a lever. The floor rumbled again and Velanna scrambled up, pulling Solana's arm. The ground split, a great dark rectangle grew just inches from where they were. Solana tried to push herself up, but it was useless. Her legs were useless.

"Go!" she told Velanna, but the elf didn't let go. As the floor disappeared beneath Solana, they both tumbled into the darkness.

It wasn't a far fall, thankfully. Perhaps a metre. Solana landed like a sack of potatoes and Velanna came down on top of her. She may have hurt her legs, but she realised with a start that she couldn't feel them at all now. Velanna rolled off her and groaned. They were in a space beneath the tower room and the glow stones from above cast dim blue light on stacks and stacks of tiny bottles.

The phylacteries.

Fiona walked down a small staircase - the more dignified entrance. "You came for the phylacteries, here they are."

Solana didn't know what she expected her to do with them. The clashes and shouts of battle still sounded from above.

"Unfreeze Nathaniel!" Velanna demanded.

Fiona didn't so much as look at her. She brushed her fingers along the rows. A Qunari collar glinted in her other hand. "Didn't it ever bother you that the Chantry uses blood magic to trace its mages? Of course, they tell us that it is for our own good, it is just a leash to make certain lost mages can be brought home. But this is not all the phylactery can do. For instance, it allows me to enter the dreams of any mage I choose, provided I have enough blood to power the spell."

Solana swallowed. Her mouth was dry and tasted foul from the lyrium. "Enough blood? You're a maleficar now?"

"You are one to lecture me. You summoned a demon into a baby."

"That's not the same!"

A silence had fallen and Fiona smiled and nodded at something above Solana's head. She looked up. Gathered around them on the upper level stood Fiona's Grey Wardens, and they had prisoners. Anders was slumped, unconscious. Another was holding Oghren in a choke hold. He looked directly down at Solana, betrayal written across his face. There were others too. The prisoner mages, a few battered and burned bodies that she had to assume were the twisted experiments gone wrong.

"This here is the Hero of Ferelden," Fiona said. "We owe her our thanks. Had she not discovered the connection between the Blight and demons, we would not be here. She bravely took her own child to a place where the Veil was weak and summoned a demon into it in hopes of curing it. And she succeeded. And now we know there is a cure, none of us need carry the Taint. And those of us who suffer the attentions of demons need never suffer them again. But we must ask you, Hero, that you help us one final time. Allow us to study you, allow us to examine your cured blood." She tossed the collar to Solana. It landed with a clang on the stone beside her useless legs.

Fiona wanted to do to her what she'd done to Carver. She'd wanted that all along. That's why Solana had been captured and put in the collar like the other prisoners. And Fiona had kept her far away from them to make sure she never found out her fate.

"Never." Solana tried again to stand, managing only to get to her knees. "I'd rather die than help you with this this _abuse_."

"Oh, Solana. I'm aware you see no value in your own life." Fiona plucked a phylactery off the shelf. She reached into her robes and drew out another, larger, vial. Something dark and red oozed within and Solana's stomach dropped. Blood.

She gathered her mana, what little she still had, and she flung it at that vial. But she should have guessed. Her magic bounced harmlessly against a barrier.

Fiona didn't even seem to notice as she poured the liquid from the phylactery into the vial. She closed her eyes and muttered some words. The vial glowed, like the spell she'd performed to check for the Blight. But this time it glowed red and dusted her features with pink. It was far prettier than it had any right to be.

Everything was still for the space of a heartbeat. Then a figure appeared on the stairs to the mezzanine. It moved haphazardly, as if it wasn't accustomed to walking.

 _Celeste._

Solana's heart kicked. She tried again to stand, and failed. "No! Celeste!"

The mage meandered down a few more stairs, pausing beside Nathaniel. An icy cold pooled in Solana's gut.

"Take his knife, Celeste," Fiona instructed.

She pulled the dagger free from Nathaniel's stone hand.

"Now, I'd like you to drag it very slowly across your throat," Fiona said.

"No!" Solana shouted. "Stop!"

Celeste didn't listen. Her hand moved up to her throat.

"Stop, Celeste," Fiona ordered calmly.

The blade paused, just against her skin. Solana would have expected Celeste's eyes to be staring straight ahead like the thralls she'd seen in the cages, but they darted around in clear panic. Celeste was perfectly aware of everything that was happening.

"Put on the collar, Solana. Help the mages," Fiona said calmly.

Samson rushed down the stairs at Fiona, waving his lyrium sword. "You let go of her!"

Fiona cast at him, but he dodged the attack with the honed reflexes of a Templar. He flung himself at Fiona's barrier, knocking her into the phylacteries. A number of them fell and smashed on the ground.

"Celeste! Cut your throat!" Fiona yelled.

Samson immediately backed away. "No! No, don't!" He dropped the sword at Fiona's feet and held up his hands.

"Celeste stop!"

Now Celeste did stare straight ahead. She hadn't sliced her throat, but blood dripped down the knife. She'd punctured her skin.

"Well, Solana? What shall it be?" Fiona asked. "I will count to three while you decide. One."

Solana searched around for some other solution. If she was in the collar she couldn't help anyone.

"Two."

If she was in the collar there was no chance she'd manage to unfreeze Nathaniel in time. There was no chance of surviving this. She didn't want to die. She wanted to see Cullen again, and Alise.

"Three! Celeste-"

Solana dived forward for the collar. If she put on the collar, Celeste would live. She pulled it to her neck, clicked it into place.

Immediately she felt the effects. What little mana she had was gone. She was empty.

"Good," Fiona said. "Very good. Now Samson, I'd like you to get into one of those cages. You volunteered, did you not?"

"Yeah," he said. He began moving for the stairs like he was the one being mind controlled.

"You can't break a compulsion!" Solana shouted after him. He paused. "It's blood magic. You can't break it."

"I know." He had been a Templar in one of the circles most notorious for maleficarum. Of course he knew. He looked at Fiona over his shoulder. "But if I do as you say, you'll treat her right? You're not gonna make her hurt herself, or anyone else, right?"

Fiona inclined her head. He started to mount the stairs again.

The knife dropped at his feet. It clattered against the stair and then bounced once, twice. Celeste had dropped it. Solana didn't know how, but somehow she was no longer holding it.

"You," Celeste said. "Shouldn't."

Fiona backed away, stumbling into one of the phylactery shelves.

"Make. A. Mal-ef-i-car. Cut."

The blood running down Celeste's neck floated upwards.

"But how?" Fiona asked.

There was no answer. Celeste closed her eyes and a pulse of magic burst from her. It was so bright that Solana had to shield her eyes. It blew her hair back and she heard breaking glass. When she could see again, she saw furniture lifting into the air - bookcases, desks, the shattered remains of cages. They hovered like they were no more than a tray of biscuits. Then they started to spin.

"No one controls me!" Celeste shouted. Furniture crashed down. "I will not be used!"

The Wardens left their prisoners and rushed for the exits but Celeste slammed the doors shut. Oghren ran to Anders's unconscious form and threw his body over him. The furniture lifted again and slammed down again. The wild magical wind she'd summoned blew over the remaining shelves, whipped paper and books up into a storm. Fiona tried to cast something at her, but it bounced against a barrier and, with a flick of her hand, Celeste knocked over the phylactery shelves. Fiona shrieked as one of them fell on her. Celeste flung her head back. The blood continued to flow from her wound.

This wasn't sustainable. She was going to drain herself!

Solana tried to get Samson's attention, but her voice melted into wind roaring above them. He needed to stop her, stop her before she killed herself. She needed something to throw at him or…

The coin. Cullen's lucky coin. Solana reached beneath her robes and tossed it. It knocked against his armour and at first it seemed like he hadn't noticed. Then he glanced at her. She pulled the vial of lyrium from her pocket. Understanding dawned on his face.

She threw it. Her aim was off but he dived for it and managed to catch it.

Celeste's power was lifting bodies now, pulling them into the raging storm. Oghren's legs were in the air, but he clung to Anders and remained tethered. Wardens and mages tried to keep hold of each other to stay anchored.

Samson downed the blue liquid, snatched his sword from the ground and pushed his way up the stairs. When he reached the upper level, he used his sword like a stave and had to hold on to the wall to stay on his feet. He gritted his teeth against the wind. It was so strong that it was pulling the skin on his face back, but he pushed forward relentlessly, one foot in front of the other. He mounted the stairs to Celeste agonisingly slowly.

Too slowly. Solana's throat was starting to close up. She wheezed, choked.

 _Second stage of the poison, not long now._

Samson reached Celeste's barrier, but even he couldn't get through. He closed his eyes, lifted the sword and whispered something. For a horrifying moment, Solana thought he was going to strike Celeste. But a bright white ring sparkled into being beneath his feet. It spread outwards from where he stood, encompassing Celeste. Shards of light floated upward from that ring and the wind stopped. Everything that had been suspended in the air crashed down. People scattered out of the way.

Celeste collapsed into Samson's arms. She reached out weakly and touched Nathaniel's ankle. The stone melted from his skin. For a moment, he stood stunned, staring at the wreckage around them. Then his eyes fell on Velanna and he plunged down the stairs, flying to her side, not even seeing Solana.

"The antidote," Velanna insisted, pushing him away.

"Of course!" Nathaniel dropped down beside Solana and lifted her head. He held a small bottle to her mouth and she drank. This concoction was even fouler than the lyrium had been. It tasted like copper and felt like a slug as it slid down her throat, but she was able to breathe again.

"I suppose this makes it nine?" Nathaniel said.

Around them people were slowly climbing to their feet. Solana heard whispers of "the Hero of Ferelden." She knew they were looking for an authority figure, for someone who could tell them where to go from here.

"Go be Warden Commander," she told Nathaniel. "This place is a mess."

She closed her eyes and let the antidote work through her.


	106. In our peace

"Are you sure you want to stay?" Solana asked Anders.

He nodded and glanced at the table where Oghren, Cullen, Carver and Nathaniel were engaged in a game of diamondback. The little cottage was drenched in warm evening light that made the nasty bruise over Anders's eye look bright purple. "I think this is a good place for us. We can do good things."

He'd been referring to himself as "we" more often since they'd returned from the keep, but Solana hadn't mentioned it. She took it as a sign that he and Justice were starting to work together, finally, in a place where they could both find acceptance.

It wasn't like there was a shortage of work to do here. Nathaniel was set on cleaning up the keep and running it as a Warden base until the Orlesian Wardens arrived. Which could be some time, since they were still picking themselves up after that business at Adamant and many had left for the Anderfels. He'd found Raoul in one of the dungeons and had sent him back to Camille with _orders_ to marry her. Thirty years may not be forever, but it was a long time. Long enough, maybe, for someone to find a viable cure.

The rest of the Wardens were given a choice. They could be locked in the dungeon or they could fall in line. Solana wasn't sure of the details of the disciplinary measures, but she believed they would be fair. As for the mages, many of them would be returning to Skyhold. Some, mostly those who had helped Fiona, asked to rather be allowed to take the Joining. Those who had been on the receiving end of Fiona's experiments, who were damaged or broken, would find proper care from the Chantry in Val Royeaux. Solana had already written to them and explained the situation.

There had been casualties and Fiona had been among them, crushed by the very phylacteries she had stolen. Solana had tried everything to resuscitate her, to no avail. Now her ashes were scattered over a pile of stones, besides the others, deep in the middle of an Orlesian forest. Perhaps one day, many years from now, travellers would stumble upon their small graveyard and wonder what had happened. Perhaps they might even remember her name. Would they remember her for her role as First Enchanter, for instigating the mage rebellion? Or for this - the dark epilogue?

"Hawke will be pleased you're happy," Celeste said, jolting Solana from her thoughts.

Celeste had been in the kitchen cooking dinner. She was still a little weak from blood loss, but she'd insisted on being useful.

Anders's expression darkened at her words. "I hope he can forgive me."

"He already has. He told me to tell you so."

"He did?" Anders didn't sound too overjoyed at the notion.

Behind them Oghren cheered and Cullen swore. Everyone around the table laughed.

"I spoke to him right before I left Skyhold. He was worried about you. He thought Solana would try to kill you."

"I see." Anders frowned. "Perhaps I should go back. Perhaps I owe it to him-"

"No," Celeste cut in a little too quickly. "He understands. It's best you both move on. He only wanted you to know that he still cares about what happens to you, and that he forgives you."

At that, Anders did smile. "Well, you can tell him we'll keep an eye on his baby brother. And he has friends in the Wardens, if ever he needs them."

Cullen pushed his chair back and raised his hands in surrender. "I'm out."

"Don't tell me you lost what was left of our coin?" Solana teased.

"I'll join if there's space." Anders took Cullen's chair and Cullen came to stand beside Solana.

"I didn't lose _all_ of it," he assured her, sheepishly.

The front door opened and Samson came in, carrying an armful of chopped wood. "Where do I put these?"

"Here, I'll show you." Celeste disappeared back into the kitchen and Samson followed.

Solana shook her head as she stared after them. "Who would have thought?"

Cullen smirked.

"What?"

"Well, I saw it happen. I'm not sure she realised it before I told her."

"Oh? Commander Rutherford, you just keep surprising me."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her close. "Long may it continue," he said as he nuzzled against her ear.

* * *

Celeste woke with a start. The fire had burned low and the kitchen was awash with the dim blue light of early dawn. Like glowstones.

Raleigh threw an arm over her. "It's alright," he said sleepily against her back. "You're safe."

She turned in his arms and pressed herself close. Despite his warmth, her insides still felt cold. "Should I be? What I did-"

"You saved everyone." He kissed her forehead

"I killed people too." She'd been there again, in her dream. She was careful to keep her voice low so as not to wake Nathaniel and Velanna who shared a bedroll on the other side of the room. "I killed Fiona. If you hadn't stopped me-"

"Shh. You're the hero of the day, you hear? You saved me, you saved Solana, you saved yourself and all of those twisted monstrosities the enchanter was keeping hidden, not to mention the Wardens and mages she still had a mind to torture."

Celeste said nothing. His words couldn't chase away the darkness she felt. She could hear Oghren snoring from the main room and wondered vaguely how Carver and Anders were managing to sleep.

"You know what the difference is between a hero and a villain?" Raleigh asked. He didn't wait for her answer. "Difference is, you feel bad. You think Fiona felt bad? No. She thought the lives she took were _necessary_. And when I was with Corypheus, the lives I took were necessary too. I know that mindset. It's not you. You care and that's good. That's what makes the difference."

She wanted to believe him. "I don't ever wish to do that again," she whispered. "I could feel the demons, Raleigh. I could feel them pressing against the Veil. They wanted me. They wanted my power."

"Hey, it's alright. I'm here." He held her in his arms, in a safe cocoon, and somehow she managed to fall asleep again.

* * *

Cullen massaged his temple and stared at the small collection of vials reflecting the dawn.

"Headache?" Solana asked, draping a blanket across his shoulders.

He pulled the cloth around him gratefully, without taking his eyes from the vials. "No." Headaches had been plaguing him regularly, but this wasn't one.

"You're uncertain?"

"Oh, I'm certain. I'm just wondering how I'll phrase this in my report. I don't imagine Queen Anora's response will be positive."

Solana laid the final vials out around the others on the tree stump. In a pile like this, they looked more like kindling for a bonfire than the last of all Ferelden's phylacteries.

They'd packed them up to take back to Skyhold the previous day, but Cullen had shaken Solana awake as the moons were sinking, after hours of gut-twisting doubt.

They were too dangerous.

And they were wrong.

He kept remembering that awful collar around Solana's neck. These were no different. They were leashes that at best brought mages under Chantry control, at worst put them in danger. And they bred fear. Fear that lead to the massacre at Kinloch Hold, fear he had breathed every day in Kirkwall, fear that had driven Fiona to these lengths.

He didn't know what the solution was, but it certainly wasn't this.

Solana turned to him and offered a smile. "Well, you'll tell her it was an accident. The supply cart overturned."

He shook his head. "I'll tell her they were all destroyed at the keep."

"You've thought this through."

"I have."

She came forward and took his hands in hers. She was so warm. But then, he'd been permanently cold since the dungeon.

"We'll find a safe solution for the mages," Solana said, staring up into his face. "They're going to need somewhere to learn about their powers, to be protected from those who hate magic on principle. We'll find a way."

He cupped her cheek. He believed her, because she was Solana and she could accomplish anything she set her mind to, but also because he saw now what he had somehow never managed to see at Skyhold. They both wanted the same thing; to protect people, to keep them safe. And it was time he let go of his own fear and stood at her side rather than in her way.

She turned and held up a hand. A rune formed in the air, blazing bright as fire. He had to squint as she pulled her arm back and let the energy fly from her wrist. It hit the pile of phylacteries with a crash. Glass and blood flew into the air before them and tinkled down to the forest floor.

* * *

Arriving back at Skyhold was not what Samson had expected.

He'd enjoyed every moment of the journey back, treasuring the time with Celeste in the idyllic forest and the comradery of those travelling with them. He'd even managed to teach Cullen some card tricks.

But when they finally rode up to Skyhold's gates, he expected something similar to the morning he'd carried Celeste up from that cave: a bunch of guards he wanted to punch in the face dragging him off to the dungeon.

Instead, an honour guard rode out to greet the party and they arrived in the courtyard to _cheers_. He knew Cullen or Solana must have written ahead to explain everything to the spymistress, but he hadn't expected anything like this. There were even _Chantry_ sisters among those singing their praises.

The Seeker came down the stairs from the upper bailey as they arrived and made a speech congratulating them on halting an evil plot. She called Celeste up to receive some special Inquisition pin. Celeste clutched his hand and he thought he'd have to go up there with her, but then Ren came running down from the training area and stood beside the Seeker, and Celeste had to go up there because she had to greet her son. Receiving high honours while doing so was just incidental.

When the crowds started to disperse, he spotted Rylen talking to Cullen. His cowardice told him to run.

But he didn't want to be that man. Not anymore.

They didn't appear to notice him at first. Samson caught some words of their conversation. Something about platforms and drunkenness? Then Rylen turned and flashed him a smile. "Welcome back."

"I, eh…" _Get it together, arsehole._ "Supposing I should be seeing myself downstairs then?" He tilted his head to the door to the dungeons. "I don want no ceremony, if that's alright?"

Rylen looked at him blankly and he felt suddenly hot. This was humiliating.

"I hear you're quite the hero," Rylen said.

Samson scratched at his ear. "Is that what Rutherford said in his report?"

"Solana, actually," Cullen corrected him. "She sent word back to the Inquisition. She's far better at that sort of thing than I."

Samson didn't know what to say. He'd never have expected the Hero to be complimentary. Perhaps Celeste had put her up to it.

"I hear that you were kidnapped by Fiona's mages and taken to Orlais where she intended to continue carrying out experiments on you?"

"Uh…"

But Rylen must _know_ that wasn't true. Samson had asked him for leave.

"It must have been quite the ordeal," Cullen said. His mouth twitched.

He _knew_ too. They were toying with him. But to what end?

Cullen cleared his throat. "Josephine will be relieved. She had to convince a lot of nobles that we knew what we were doing when we brought you up from the dungeon. I would never hear the end of it if she had to tell them all we were wrong."

Rylen nodded gravely. "It would be a difficult thing indeed, considering how many have already withdrawn their support now the breach is closed."

"Look." Samson shook his head. "I'm not any good with this cryptic shite. Speak plainly." _Please._

Cullen sighed. "The Inquisition's official line is that the Red Lyrium was responsible for much of what you did under Corypheus. It would be something of an embarrassment to admit you ran off, and that you managed to escape our grasp so easily. Besides, I owe you a debt. Solana told me how much lyrium you took. I... I'm not certain how you walked out of there. But you did. You saved everyone in that room. Including my wife."

There was nothing like the lyrium rush; the lightning in your veins, the way the world exploded into colours and on the other side of those colours lay madness but you didn't _care_ because you could see and feel _everything_. Too much sent you flying through the colours, turned your sparking veins to mush, pulled you into a deep empty darkness that there was no escaping from. Apparently. It had never happened to Samson.

"What, do you figure it means that I'm resistant?" he asked aloud.

Cullen's brow furrowed. "I don't know, but whatever it is perhaps one day we can use it to help the Templars." He seemed to realise how his words sounded, given the context of the last few weeks, because he shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, perhaps one day, if you're willing, you can investigate and-"

Samson held up a hand to quieten him. "Yeah, maybe. I like the sound of helping."

"Ser Samson!"

Samson looked up, following the sound of his name. Ren stood on the stairs above them, waving wildly. His heart swelled. And there was Celeste, behind him. The light caught her hair as it whipped in the wind and she looked a vision, but for the frown on her lips. Concern. For him.

Was that why she'd clutched his hand so tightly? Because she knew as well as he did that he was destined for the dungeon?

But somehow, miraculously, he wasn't. If he understood what Cullen and Rylen had said, they weren't going to be separated by bars. Perhaps, they may even have a future together. He was paralysed by the intensity of his feelings. His chest felt like it may burst.

"I've been trying to keep up his training," Rylen was saying. "But I fear I haven't had much-"

Samson didn't hear the rest of Rylen's words. He made for the stairs.

* * *

It was quite something to watch how Samson took the young boy into his arms and how Celeste threw her own arms around him and kissed him fiercely. They looked every bit the family, as unlikely a family as Cullen could imagine.

He had known this Raleigh Samson once. When they'd first met, when they'd shared a room, Samson had been thoughtful and kind. He'd never complained when Cullen had jerked awake from some nightmare and more than once had brought him tea laced with a calming potion. He had tried to get Cullen to talk about what had happened, but it had been too raw. Cullen hadn't wanted his kindness, hadn't felt he deserved it. He'd pushed him away. Perhaps he could have done more when Samson had been ejected from the Order. At Hawke's request, Cullen had once asked Meredith to consider pardoning him. She'd refused and he'd left it at that.

After the Kirkwall streets, after Corypheus, he'd never imagined he'd see this Samson again. Yet here he was, in many ways the same templar who had offered Cullen his friendship all those years ago. It was difficult to put aside everything the man had done in between, but perhaps it was worth trying.

"As I was saying about your quarters…" Rylen said, bringing Cullen's attention back to him.

Before Samson approached them, Rylen had been trying to explain that his quarters were under renovation, that the expansions Cullen had requested were now underway. No doubt, it was Leliana's doing. A way of rubbing in that she'd been right to trick him and Solana into travelling together.

 _Well, she had been._

"You said _Berinole_ had been given the go ahead? The roofer?"

"Erm, yes."

Cullen's heart beat a little faster. "Tell me he hasn't destroyed the entire room? I fixed that room for Solana." It had taken weeks. "And the pictures of her family, they're all she has-"

"Oh, I think what was there before is safe. It's just… well…"

"Perhaps it's best that I see?"

"Oh no, I don't think so."

 _Was it really that bad?_ "I insist."

* * *

Solana made straight for the guest quarters, not even pausing to listen to the Seeker's speeches. She could hear Alise as she approached, but it wasn't crying. It was a range of enthusiastic baby noises she usually made when playing outside.

She felt a foolish stab of jealousy as she approached the door, that Alise could make those noises for someone else, that Alise was happy with someone else while her mother had longed for her. But none of those feelings were reasonable. It was good that Alise was happy.

Solana paused with her hand on the door handle. What if Alise didn't want to leave this Orlesian nurse? She was so highly recommended that she must have been an amazing carer, far more qualified than Solana.

Would Alise even recognise her?

She held her breath and rapped on the door.

"Enter!" the Orlesian called from within.

The room was warm with sunlight. Dust motes danced in the beams streaming through the windows. The nurse was kneeling on the carpet beside Alise, who was on her back, kicking out her feet and waving her hands at an array of small fabric birds that the nurse was dangling over her head.

She'd grown. It brought a lump to Solana's throat seeing how much she'd missed in the short time she'd been away.

"Oh! Madam!" The nurse climbed to her feet and gave a little curtsy. "You have returned."

Solana hovered awkwardly in the doorway. "Yes, a few minutes ago. She… she seems well."

"Oh, she is well. She struggled a little with the teething but now she is all smiles."

Teething? "She has teeth?"

The nurse bent to scoop Alise up. "A tooth, yes. Come _mon petit chou_ , let us show mother your tooth."

Solana tensed as her baby's gaze fell on her for the first time in weeks. Alise blinked and Solana's heart sank.

 _I was away too long. She doesn't even know me._

Then Alise thrust out her arms and squealed. Her mouth opened in a wide grin, showing her perfect little white tooth poking up from the bottom gum.

The nurse laughed as she passed her over. "Oh, yes. You missed your mummy, didn't you?"

"I'm so sorry," Solana said as she hugged Alise to her chest. "I shouldn't have left you. I never want to leave you again."

She was still cuddling Alise some time later when Cullen stuck his head around the door. Alise flapped her arms in excitement at Cullen's entrance too, and Solana saw the look of happy surprise on his face. He greeted them both with a kiss.

"I have some, uh, well, interesting news, I suppose," he said.

"Don't tell me they've put Samson in the dungeon? Did they receive my letter?"

"They did. Samson's fine. It's… You recall those expansions you wanted? To our quarters?"

She nodded and tried to read his expression.

"There's no easy way to say this. The roofer was given the go ahead and I think he was given full sanction to do as he pleased."

"As he pleased?" That did not sound good.

"Yes. Instead of extending along the battlements as I suggested, he's gone and built a wooden platform - no, _platforms_ \- hanging out over the edge of the castle. And he's connected them with staircases so instead of an extra room we have three additional rooms, all of which are suspended with no fortifications-"

"We're not at war anymore, Cullen."

His neck was red with suppressed rage. "Well, not at the moment. But I'm certain it isn't safe. It doesn't look safe. He assured me it only looked that way because it wasn't finished yet."

"When does he think he'll be finished?"

Cullen threw up his arms. "Who can say? I'm sorry Solana. This is not what I requested from the Inquisitor. And Rylen is sleeping above my office. I do not mean to impose but do you think I could-"

"Of course." They hadn't discussed their sleeping arrangements when they returned to Skyhold, but they'd been sharing a tent the entire way home. She'd assumed it obvious. "You must stay here with Alise and I while the work completes."

He offered a relieved smile.

She took his hand. "And after, wherever we end up sleeping, I would hope to remain at your side."

"Truly, I was hoping... But I didn't want to assume."

"I'm your wife, Cullen."

"And I'm your husband."

* * *

 _A/N still a few small things left to resolve... like where tf is the Inquisitor? :D_


	107. What will become

Solana was already awake feeding Alise when the first horn sounded, but Cullen shot upright in bed. "Are we under attack?"

Another horn followed. Cullen narrowed his sleepy eyes. "Two horns. It must be serious. Wait here."

He scrambled from beneath the covers and tugged on his breeches. He had one arm in his shirt when the trumpeting started. Four, maybe more, instruments. The sound rose in an ecstatic brassy wave.

Cullen froze. "What in the Void?"

It was coming from somewhere within Skyhold, or possibly from the courtyard, and it was drawing nearer.

Then drums joined the strange ensemble. Now it sounded less like an attack and more like a… procession.

Solana lifted Alise to her shoulder and closed her gown. This, she wanted to see.

Weak sunlight splashed across the side of Skyhold and into the herb garden where the procession seemed to be arriving. Alongside those marching with instruments were people carrying vases of bright yellow flowers. They were laying them in rows, filling up the herb garden.

Cullen peered down at this commotion with a small frown. He seemed just as confused as Solana felt.

Hawke's door slammed open and he rushed out, practically skidding to a halt when he saw the flowers.

"What's going on?" A man followed him out of the room, still pulling on his own shirt.

Solana didn't recognise him, but Cullen cleared his throat. "Eh, Good morning Knight-Captain."

The man was tanned, but he went almost as white as his shirt. "Cullen. I, eh." He looked to Hawke, then his gaze went to Solana. "This must be your lovely wife? Solana is it?" _Smooth._

He stuck out a hand, showing more confidence than she would have expected from a man half undressed.

This probably wasn't the best time for introductions, but Solana accepted it. "If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say you must be Rylen?"

"You would be correct." He chuckled nervously. "Any idea what all this is about?"

Cullen shook his head. "No. Although I'm yet to see a threat bring flowers."

"That's because you never knew Knight-Commander Murray. He was particularly fond of bluebells."

It sounded like a story Solana wanted to hear more of, but at that point the music swelled.

Cassandra marched into the garden below them, down a narrow path through the yellow flowers. "What is the meaning of this!"

The music halted and the sudden silence made Solana's ears ring. Around them all the other guests had come out of their rooms. Crowds had gathered around the garden below. At least half the Inquisition must have been here now. Hawke stood tensed, his fingers white around his staff. He was clearly accustomed to the unexpected turning out to be disastrous.

"I demand to know what is going on!" Cassandra shouted.

Another figure moved onto the path between the flowers. His armour shone, and he carried a helmet under his arm. Solana couldn't see who he was, but Cassandra clearly recognised him because she gasped and her hands flew to her mouth.

"A last ditch attempt, that is what is going on," he said.

It was Max.

The Inquisitor bowed at the waist. "I know your mind is made up. And when your mind is made up, it's a foolish endeavour to try change it. But I had to at least make the attempt. I have journeyed to Nevarra. I have spoken to your uncle. I have undergone the trials and he has granted me permission-"

"What trials?" Cassandra interrupted.

"It's all right. I passed." He sank to one knee.

She moved two steps closer to him. "What trials?"

"Well, the single-handed slaying of a dragon to prove myself worthy of the Pentaghast line."

"There is no such trial!"

"Your uncle said-"

Cassandra pulled him to his feet. "My uncle is a fool. He likely wanted to see how far he could make the Inquisitor go, so he'd have a good story to tell his fat friends. And you are foolish too for attempting such a thing. You might have died! If you had asked me, I could have told you. Do you have any idea how worried I've been about you!"

"I told you I was going to the Frostback Basin-"

"But I didn't hear from _you_. You could have been dead." She threw her arms around him. "Only you would be idiotic enough to take on a dragon single-handedly."

He held her tightly, then drew away. "Is that more or less idiotic than this?"

Once again, he sank to one knee. He set down his helmet and reached into a pouch on his belt. Cassandra seemed to realise what was happening at the moment just before he held up the ring.

"Max…"

He took her hand. "Cassandra. You have fought at my side for many long months, when at times we all thought the fight was hopeless. I have grown to consider you a close friend, I have grown to care for you more than I imagined possible. You always believed in me. I believe in _us_. Let us start a new chapter together. Remain at my side, Cassandra. Become my wife and I will pledge myself to the cause of your happiness."

"You _know_ that I can not."

"You can tell them no."

She yanked her hand free and shook her head. It looked like she was about to say something else but then she turned and ran, stumbling over pots of yellow flowers and scattering bright petals as she fled.

"Well, that was awkward," Hawke said.

Solana met Cullen's eyes, knowing they both understood why Cassandra couldn't accept. "You should go speak to her."

"Me? No I… I don't even know what I'd say."

"She's your friend."

"Well yes, but-"

"Go talk to her. I'm going to go see Leliana."

* * *

"Go away!" Cassandra brought her blade down on the shoulder of the training dummy so hard that she cut well into it. Hay leaked out, but she was undeterred and took another swipe. "Leave me be!"

Cullen was surprised there weren't more onlookers, but perhaps she'd chased them away while he'd been getting dressed. Or perhaps they knew to give the Seeker a wide berth.

He paused in his approach. Perhaps they had been wise. "I- eh. If it's a sparring partner you require, I could organise you someone who'd defend themselves. Raleigh Samson might be available."

"Very funny." Cassandra shoved her sword into the ground and dropped her head into her hands. "I'd ask you to bring me the Inquisitor, but I fear I may actually kill him."

"He fought a dragon single-handedly. I'm certain he'd survive."

"You saw that all, then?" she peeked up at him.

Cullen nodded. "I assume the flowers had some significance?"

"Yes. He was _trying_ to be romantic. He knows they are my favourites. I should have realised when I first saw them."

She paced away from Cullen, running her fingers through her hair. "Why would he do something so foolish? In front of everyone? He knows that I cannot be his wife. He's known that from the start. We had _rules_. An _agreement_. This was never meant to be anything serious. When did he start to imagine it might go beyond the Inquisition? Does he think of me in front of a hearth? Does he think of me heavy with child? I've never wanted those things!"

She leaned her head and hands against the tree that shaded the area. Her shoulders moved with each deep breath she took. Cullen searched for something comforting to say, but found nothing.

"The truth is," she said, in a very quiet voice. "I _do_ want those things. Now, I find myself daydreaming. What would it be like to come home to a husband, to children? To sit around a dinner table? My memories of my childhood are fleeting. I remember no such thing from my own life. Why should I want it now? It is a ridiculous notion. I have a duty. He knows I have a duty!"

"To the Chantry?" Cullen asked without thinking.

Her attention turned to him. "Who told you? I specifically instructed Leliana to-"

"No, it wasn't Leliana. I overheard you talking."

"Oh. Well, yes. I promised my life to the Chantry the day I became a Seeker. The Chantry has lost its way. I could change that. I could set it back on its path."

"Do you wish to be Divine?"

"It doesn't matter what I wish. It is my calling."

"I once thought it was my calling too. I was wrong."

She looked at him strangely and he felt compelled to continue.

"Perhaps the Maker is not as absent as we've been told. Perhaps He has not abandoned his children after all. That I am alive at all is a testament to that. I have to believe that He is guiding me. Though often I have been surrounded by shadow, He has led me, somehow, miraculously, through it. He lead me to Solana. Is it so inconceivable that He's led you to his Herald?"

* * *

Solana paused on the stairs between the library and Leliana's sanctum and tried to gather her thoughts.

It had been a long time since they'd spoken personally.

Discounting that meeting in the garden when Leliana had sent her Orlais, the last time had been in the phylactery room. Solana had been holding a vial of blood then too, but it had been _her_ blood. And Leliana had been keeping it around her neck, and she'd refused to confess why, but Solana thought she knew. And then Leliana had been forced to kill her.

Yet somehow, despite that, she'd worked tirelessly to make sure Solana was happy, even going so far as to set her up on a quest with Cullen.

Solana owed her so much. It felt wrong to give her this burden. But there was no one she trusted more. She pushed on up the stairs.

Leliana sat at her desk writing furiously with a quill. "You can set it down over there," she said, without looking up.

"I'd rather not."

Leliana smiled at Solana's voice. "My apologies, I thought you were someone else. How can I help you?"

Despite the smile, she felt formal and cold. "Can we speak somewhere private?"

"Certainly." Leliana clapped her hands. "Leave us!"

The scouts and spies emptied out of the room without protest and shortly it was only the two of them. The room felt vast now, and far too quiet. The birds were on their perches. There was no sound from outside. Solana sat opposite Leliana and put the vial she carried in the middle of the table.

Leliana raised an eyebrow. "Cullen informed me none of these survived."

"It's not a phylactery. It's a secret."

The spymaster lifted the vial and held it up to the light. "I'm fond of secrets."

"Leliana, I know you turned down the position of Divine. I know they offered it to you first and when you declined they went to Cassandra."

"How do you figure that?"

"Cullen overheard Cassandra and Max talking… and I spoke to Celeste. You told me you were going to be Divine. You assured me you were going to protect the mages."

"Solana, I said what I needed to say to make you agree." She set the vial down again. "I'm sorry, but lying's a part of my job."

"What will happen to the mages now?"

"That is for Cassandra to decide."

Solana had had a long time to come to terms with that, but still the words chilled her. She clenched her fists and tried not to show how upset she was by this distant Leliana. "Why did you turn down the position?"

Leliana stood. "Do you really need to ask? The Divine is meant to be holy. You know my past. You know I am hardly holy."

Solana stood too. "That's rubbish." From what she'd heard, Justinia had hardly been holy either when she'd first joined the Chantry. "I know you had a vision. In that Chantry in Loth-"

"A child's fantasy!"

Solana snatched her arm. "No. A terrible darkness. An ungodly noise. You stood on a peak and watched as the darkness consumed everything-"

Leliana shook herself free. "I remember it well enough. I fell and the darkness drew me in."

"And then you found the rose bush in the garden. It had flowered."

"That doesn't _mean_ anything."

"Even in the midst of the darkness, there is hope and beauty. Alistair picked the rose. Did you know that? He picked it and he gave it to me."

It was nothing now, ten years later, but a brown and crinkled thing she'd kept at the bottom of a pouch. But she withdrew it and she thrust it at Leliana. "It was never supposed to be about me. It was about you. You are the rose." Solana took her hand and pressed the remains of the rose into her palm. "Thedas is in darkness. _You_ can lead us out."

Leliana stared at her. "You were the rose. You were always the rose, blooming in the darkness."

Solana shook her head, and she held Leliana's hand. "You need to be Divine. You need to accept. Cassandra's a general, she's blunt and pragmatic. She won't last a day in Val Royeaux. And when she fails, that mage, Madame de Fer, will be more than happy to take her place."

Leliana smirked. "Is this about the Inquisitor's proposal? That was quite the show, wasn't it?"

Solana swallowed. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't also felt for Max. But Cassandra's refusal was merely confirmation of Solana's fears. She dropped Leliana's hand and picked up the vial. "It's about this."

"Ah, your secret. What is it?"

"Possibly? A cure for possession."

Leliana narrowed her eyes. "This is Fiona's work?"

Solana nodded. "She hurt a lot of people to get to this point. I didn't approve of her methods but… the theory, Leliana. If it's true that there's a way for mages to avoid being possessed that doesn't involve Tranquility, or the side effects of the Warden joining? It's worth exploring. But I can trust no one else with this. I can trust no one else to find a way to investigate it without more people getting hurt."

Leliana barked a hollow laugh. "That you should even say that means you know nothing of me."

"Leliana…"

"You have no idea what I've done in the years since we've travelled together, do you? Do you even know what being the Divine's Left Hand entails? All the lies, all the death, and yet you still managed to fool me. You and Fiona and the others, running experiments on prisoners right beneath my nose! I am the last person who should be Divine. I am the last person you should trust."

"You cannot know everything-"

"It's my _job_ to know everything!"

"Maybe it isn't! Maybe it's your job to accept the position appointed to you, to serve the Maker as you intended when you joined the Chantry in Lothering-"

"I intended to _hide._ "

"No. You found something else there. I know you did. I remember."

"You've been gone a long time."

"Well I'm back now."

"And you've changed."

This was hopeless. Perhaps Leliana was too far gone. Frustration burned Solana's throat.

Leliana turned away. "I thought I was fulfilling His purpose for me. Working with the Divine, helping people. But it was all for nothing. I am not chosen, I am lost just like everyone else. Cassandra burns with purpose still. She believes, she never doubts. She brought the Inquisition together-"

"Yet you never told her about the phylacteries."

"An error on my part, perhaps."

There was nothing more to say. Solana tucked the vial into her pocket and made for the stairs.

"Wait!"

She turned, hope stirring in her chest.

Leliana nodded to the pocket where she'd tucked the vial. "I'd like to have a look at that, if I may. Perhaps I can still help the mages."

Solana passed it to her without protest, but she couldn't resist saying, "You _know_ how best you can help the mages."

* * *

The door was open but Hawke knocked anyways. Solana, who was dangling some fabric birds over her daughter's head, looked up. Her face fell when she saw him.

Well, suppose that's what he deserved considering how they'd left things.

"I… wanted to say goodbye."

She stood and swept her mane of red hair behind her ears. "You're leaving?"

"Rylen invited me back to the Western Approach with him. I decided to accept." He shrugged. "There isn't much for me here anymore."

Solana nodded, but her eyes were exploring his face as if trying to see beneath his skin.

"What?" Was she going to ask him about Anders?

"Thank you for coming by."

He wasn't sure how to take that. Was she asking him to leave?

"Would you like- I can make you tea if you want?"

 _Tea? As if this wasn't awkward enough._ "No. Thank you. Rylen wants to get going."

"Of course." Solana chewed on her lower lip. The baby gave a little squeal of impatience.

It was tempting to just walk away while she was tending to her, but he waited for her to lift the youngster up and bounce her.

"Solana… About what I said. In the inn that day. I was drunk."

"It's alright."

"No, I was wrong. Celeste told me everything that happened, how you stood up to Fiona. You're not like her, and you're not like _him_. If he even was your father. I should have known better."

She smiled softly. "Thank you, Hawke."

Silence fell between them, and again Hawke considered leaving.

"Rylen seems nice."

He chuckled and ducked his chin, trying not to recall their _interesting_ introduction.

"I am _very_ nice," the familiar lilting voice said behind him. It made Hawke's heart leap. Rylen's hand came to rest on the small of Hawke's back and it was all he could do not to lean into the touch. "You should visit us in the Approach some time so I can show you. As Hawke's family member I feel the necessity to impress you."

"He's humble too," Hawke added in a stage whisper.

Solana beamed then. Whatever had been troubling her seemed to have washed away. "If you can convince my husband to leave his post for long enough, most certainly. "

"Aye, there's the trouble. But the gates of Griffon Wing Keep are open to you, always."

* * *

The main hall was already packed by the time Cullen arrived with Cassandra in tow. She hiccoughed loudly and he was starting to regret taking her for drinks in the tavern.

He'd meant for it to be a quiet afternoon. He'd meant to buy her an ale or two to help her drink away her sorrow. Then Varric had joined them with a deck of cards.

Cassandra and Cullen were equally matched, which is to say neither of them were any good, and Varric won every round. Samson had arrived a little later and had been in a chipper enough mood to buy everyone drinks. Then Solana had found them, and she'd wanted to play a few rounds too while the nurse was watching Alise. People kept arriving, the drinks kept coming. It had been an enjoyable day but Cassandra definitely needed some food in her.

Cullen helped her onto one of the benches, but no sooner had he got her seated with a plate in front of her, then someone was pulling her up again.

"What is this? I don't! Leliana!"

The spymistress's hood fell back. "I need to talk to you."

"Now might not be bet best time," Cullen said. "She's had a bit to drink."

"Yes, I can smell that. This can't wait."

Leliana pulled Cassandra across the hall by the arm and they disappeared into one of the side rooms, but not before the Seeker threw a plaintive look at Cullen.

"What was all that about?" Solana asked, sliding in next to him.

"I don't know, but let us hope it doesn't involve nobles or chantry sisters. She's in no state for either."

Solana rested her head on his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her, not caring about the audience. Being close to her like this was bliss.

"I'm considering asking Valenta to stay," Solana said. "She's so good with Alise."

 _The nurse._ "It would free up your time."

"It would. Although I'm not sure what I'd use it for. Do you think Max would take me on missions?" She pulled away a little. " _Safe_ ones."

Cullen was glad of the addendum, although he knew it was entirely for his benefit. "I'm certain he wouldn't say no to assistance from the Hero of Ferelden."

Solana's fingers threaded with his. "It's something to think about."

The hubbub around the room quietened as Trevelyan walked up to the Inquisitor's dais. He lifted a goblet to each table in turn and then started speaking about how glad he was to be home, and how he was proud of his people for accomplishing all they had while he was away.

Cassandra slid into her seat beside Cullen half way through the speech, but she looked down at her plate and didn't appear to be listening.

"Lastly, I would like to thank the team who risked their lives to halt dangerous blood magic experimentation in the forests of Orlais. Solana, Cullen, Samson, Celeste and of course Leliana, who orchestrated everything. You have done the Inquisition proud and-"

Cassandra shot to her feet. "Yes."

Every person in the hall fixed their attention on her. Cullen took her arm and tried to guide her down, but she pulled herself free.

"Yes, I will marry you."

Trevelyan didn't move. His eyes rested on her, but he didn't make a sound.

Cassandra climbed out of her seat and almost fell over it. Solana dropped her head into her hands. This was even more mortifying than that morning had been.

"I love you," Cassandra declared as she marched up to where Trevelyan stood. "I have no wish to be parted from you, you foolish man. Yes. I will marry you."

Trevelyan looked as if a rift had opened right in front of him, as if he wasn't sure Cassandra was real.

Leliana bolted in from an adjoining room, rushed past Cassandra and whispered something in Trevelyan's ear. His eyes went larger. He turned to look at her face. She nodded.

"I- I believe congratulations are in order," he said to the room. "A new Divine has been chosen and our very own spymistress will be accepting the position."

Solana's face lit up and she whooped. This must have been her doing.

The rest of those gathered started to applaud and cheer but Trevelyan held up a hand to silence them. "And- I suppose I'd like to announce the engagement of one Maxwell Trevelyan and Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast."

Cassandra ran forward, pushed Leliana out of the way and threw her arms around Trevelyan's neck. He laughed as he held her and kissed her and the room swelled with sounds of celebration and congratulations.

"How do you figure she'll feel about that when she's sober?" Samson asked, sliding into Cassandra's place. Celeste and Ren were with him. Celeste must have just come off duty because she was still in her apron. She arranged food on a plate for Ren before sitting herself.

Based on their conversation earlier, Cullen knew Cassandra wouldn't regret the decision. He knew that Trevelyan would never try to keep her tied to the household. He'd encourage her to rebuild the Seekers she cared about while he ran the Inquisition and maybe one day, when that was done, they would settle somewhere together and she would have her hearth and her children and the normal life she'd always been denied.

"I think she'll be happy," he said. He added silently as he looked around the room, _I think we all will._

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _There's still a little epilogue coming on Thursday, but I just wanted to take the time now to thank everyone who's made it so far in the story, especially those of you who have left comments. I started this fic only a few months after discovering Dragon Age and I didn't imagine I'd end up writing three books' worth - that's a LOT of reading! So thank you all, from the bottom of my heart._

 _I'm going to be concentrating on writing original fiction for the next little while. I have a college YA fantasy half done, and two fantasy trilogies lined up. If you'd like to keep in touch, you can find me on pretty much any social media platform as tallulahlucy :)_

 _Thanks again for all the support. Your kudos and comments have brightened my life immeasurably over the past year and a bit 3_


	108. Epilogue: We are forever

_Satinalia, 9:44 Dragon_

The streets of Val Royeaux were bright, even at night. Glowstone lamps cast vivid blue light across the cobblestones. Moths and small bugs weaved in and out of the glow, their dance mimicking the masked Satinalia revels below.

Solana was satisfied to watch from the second storey window of her apartments. One day, Alise would probably drag her out to join the dances. But for now, she relished in the ability to observe while surrounded by the hushed silence of home.

She heard the door behind her open, but didn't turn to look. Careful footfalls were suddenly interrupted by the pounding of four legs across the landing, the thump of a tail on the door.

"No! Bad dog." Cullen cursed softly. "Out."

Solana smiled despite herself. Dog loved Alise, and as a result he tried to get into the nursery at every opportunity. A glance at the cot beside her confirmed that Alise was still asleep, blonde curls framing her peaceful, doll face. The door clicked shut.

"Sorry," Cullen whispered. He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned back into his warmth. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine so long as I don't move."

He nuzzled against her neck, a hand drifting across her stomach. "At least this time we know it's not the Calling."

He placed a mug on the sill. Steam twisted up from it, brushing condensation across the window, transforming the Orlesians below into bright blurs of colour.

"Mint tea. Ella says it should help."

Ella, their housekeeper, had a horde of her own children. Two of them had already married and had their own. She was a wealth of knowledge, and good with Alise. Solana was glad of the assistance. Alise was proving as strong-willed as her parents.

Cullen watched the dancing a while in silence and when Solana turned her head slightly to look at him, the blue light was reflecting in his eyes and a crease of concern divided his brow. The hand remained on her stomach, protectively.

"If Solas decides to attack in the next six months, I'm staying here," he said quietly.

So that's what was bothering him. Memories of the last time she was pregnant, of returning to find she had died in childbirth. Now a new child, a new war.

"But if he makes a move in nine months' time, I'm going after him myself," she said, with a smile so he knew she was joking. At least in part.

His half-smile said he understood. "If you go after him, I'm taking the children to South Reach and staying there until it's all over."

"You really dislike Orlais that much?"

"Yes." He rested his chin on her shoulder. "But... we're doing good work here."

She knew he didn't just mean the covert operations involving members of what had been the Inquisition. While they were no doubt invaluable, using their home for the unofficial headquarters and passing messages between Divine Victoria and the others, Cullen meant his clinic. In just a few months, he had transformed a mansion that had belonged to some heirless lord, into a home for retired Templars and those who wished to give up lyrium. She could see how pleased he was with what he'd accomplished, although he'd never say it.

She covered his hand with hers. "Maybe when we're done saving the world, you can establish another clinic in Denerim. I'm certain Samson would be eager to join you. Chopping wood for his brother-in-law can hardly be fulfilling. Celeste's last letter said he wanted to take on mercenary work. Can you believe it? Of course, she refused to let him."

Solana had last seen them at Max and Cassandra's wedding. It had been a beautiful event, held on the Trevelyan estates in Ostwick. It had also served as a cover for the new Inquisition's first secret meeting, so everyone had been there. It had been a relief to see Max looking so happy, despite what had happened to his arm. Celeste had had news of her own. Another child on the way, a brother or sister for Ren. Their second children would be of an age. They'd be able to play together. If they lived in Denerim, perhaps they could even grow up together.

Cullen kissed her temple. "I do like that idea, but I question whether we'll ever be done saving the world. Besides, the White Spire would miss you."

"I can work in Ferelden."

"In Kinloch? That's far from Denerim."

"I don't have to teach at an old Circle Tower. I could establish a school in the city."

Cullen chuckled. "You wouldn't want life to be too easy."

Solana's mage school had so far proved successful. Younger students were encouraged to board at the tower while they learned to control their magic, but they were welcome to see their parents whenever they wished. Adult mages came and went as they pleased, although many chose to live within the tower walls, studying and refining their abilities. The new College of Enchanters seemed happy to provide funding, and although Madame de Fer hadn't quite given up trying to start her own Circle, no one had pulled a mage from their home and forced them into one. Which was really all Solana could ask.

She turned in Cullen's arms and thankfully the nausea remained at bay. "What's life without challenge?" She tucked a blond lock behind his ear.

"I'll let you know if I ever find out." He kissed her tenderly, holding her close.

Outside, delicate flakes of snow drifted down to the square. Revelers paused in their dances to look up at the sky, or hold out their hands. A hush fell over Val Royeaux, and for a moment all was at peace.


End file.
